


The one who's royally fucked

by Spacegaywritings



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (they all play a minor role), Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Bad Ending, Choking, Delusions, Explicit Sexual Content, Ftm Virgil, Gay Sex, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Ghosts, Heartbreak, Insanity, Kinda?, Logan being a true Quing?, Logan the leader, M/M, Magic, Misgendering, Non-Consensual Bondage, Panic, Past Rape/Non-con, Patton is a cis woman, Pining, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Rope Bondage, Sexual Violence, Trans Character, Unrequited Love, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Violence, a very fucked roman, deal with it pls, fem sides, ghost character, ghost whisperer - Freeform, idk how else to name it, kinda transphobia, mentally fucked and terribly capricious within seconds, multiple layers of reality, noncon, self blaming, umpredictable asshole moves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-01-04 10:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacegaywritings/pseuds/Spacegaywritings
Summary: IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS IS NONCON - THIS IS RAPE!Prince Roman caught the resistance group at last. It appears that the punk is the leader and he promises to let the others go if the pretty fella agrees to joining him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will repeat once more: this fic has RAPE in it (not yet in this chapter).  
If you cannot handle this or other content warnings provided, please abandon this work immediately! I repeat: this is about rape and your mental health is more important than reading!
> 
> I do not condone any action performed in this fic.
> 
> *I hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless. If I forgot any tags, please tell me here or on my Tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spacegaywritings). I am more than happy to add whatever you feel is necessary!!   
Stay safe ♥

Roman strolled up and down the little room, his steps slow and measured. Whenever his heels touched the golden floor, it made an echoing sound. It felt as if cold air jumped from the wall to wall in a cave of layered, old ice. 

The sound drove chills down the people standing before him. Quivering more than anything. 

The group of people was scarce. Just few persons standing there in rugged and ripped excuses of clothing that once covered their bodies properly but now looked more like out of place carpet pieces stacked in top of each other.   
And the tower seemed ready to topple over. 

Eventually, Roman came to a halt.   
The rubies in his golden crown shimmered suspiciously in the final rays if the setting sun. True gold flooded the small chamber as the light pushed past the suffocating crowds of clouds that threatened to swallow the ball of fire.   
The red gleam intensified in a warm glow as he turned his face to the group. The auburn hair fit the red in his crown. 

Or the red of his enemies blood. 

His uniform was as white as innocent could be and adorned it golden and red ornaments, and several medals.   
It seemed as if even his body was dressed up in lies he didn't deserve to tell. 

His winning smile flashed over his face, high cheek bones rising in contrast to the white cannibal teeth he presented. 

The Prince was putting up a show but nobody seemed to buy the ticket for his ride to just another act of Illusion.   
The have been fooled for too long. 

"I must excuse my guardian's behaviour but you left me no choice in this matter. I hope they have not been too cruel on you. I can see you have fine ladies with you who deserve my respect." 

The voice spoke up. Crawling over the floor like a predator and waiting with an opened jaw to catch his prey. 

A woman covered in dirt shrank away from his words. Tears stood in her crystal blue eyes as she tried to maintain eye contact. To stay strong like their leader had advised them to.   
They could make it. They could still make it, she thought as she rose a shaky hand to clear the tears away.   
She sniffed and brushed through her light brown hair. It stuck together like honey to a spoon but in the soon, it looked just as sweet as the corn coloured liquid. 

She was one of the few ladies in the group. Remy and Emile had been born with female bodies but never really expressed to feel accordingly. At least not constantly. 

Patty's blue orbs glanced over to the duo before her who withstood the cold thread of an invisible enemy and looked the Prince into his red eyes. 

They seemed fitting for a lecher of blood and destruction. The colour mirrored his work of destruction in the kingdom.   
A work they have been trying to undo up until now. 

Now they were stuck and at the mercy of a man who was rumored to whip his dagger out faster than he drew a breath. 

The Prince must have heard the sniffle and, attracted by weakness, dared inching closer to the group. 

Two towers of men stood beside each of his hips and strode forward with him, hands ready like loaded guns. 

Patty nearly flinched away but she stood close enough for Emile to take her hand behind Logan's back to ease her up.   
For a moment, Roman wasn't there and the ground before her was made of actual gold because the were in a magical paradise in which only the warmth of her partners existed. 

"I know you're afraid"

The voice spoke up again and pulled Patty from her little dream.   
It had been too nice but she thirsted after the satisfying illusion of a better world. 

Remy took a little inch to move before Patty. Always the protector of their beloved girlfriend. 

Roman let out a laugh void of any actual trait that usually qualifies laughter as laughter. Any emotion was out of place, as if it had been banned from his body along with all humanity in his sense.   
He took another step closer, standing face to face with their leader now. 

Between Roman and Patty, there was only the leader. 

Their leader, Logan (bless their soul), was Patty's bastard brother of another mother. Their skin was much rougher and stained by this world and its endless suffering. Their hair was blacker than the darkness the group has been through and their spite was greater than the Prince's ego. 

He titled his head just barely enough to glance over the slightly smaller man, the group's front.   
Maybe the group was mostly teens and adolescents but Logan was the most mature and rational of them all and always seemed to keep the peace in their heart to handle every situation like a thought experiment. The group had jokingly dubbed this the "textbook attitude" since they gave answers and solutions as bluntly and suddenly as a book and it usually hit the others just as hard when it seemed so easy yet so inaccessible with a group of minds clouded by panic. 

This why they were their cherished and well-respected leader. Logan was a magician who knew what to do and when to do it and how to wait if need be.   
And they were damn good at it. It was the reason their little group had survived for so long and had made it right into the heart of the castle but just not yet to the King's heart. 

Sadly, their magic was rendered useless on the sanctified grounds of the kingdom since a ban for all spell-bound and elemental magic pushed Logan into the position of a curious teen who went too far and overestimated their limits and abilities. 

"You may have lovely companions with you but that does not change the fact that you rudely invaded this castle without invitation or any other announcement to account for an allowance. You breached my mercy and you will have to pay with your lives for that. "

It was another of these moments when Roman started to speak up but this time, even Logan seemed to falter at the sudden force of these words. 

He flinched, marveling at the monstrosity of a consequence.   
If it could even be called a consequence instead of a arbitrary cruelty imposed on guilt-free individuals by a mania driven ruler. 

The magician had brought death over all his companions, he had ripped apart relationships and buried the kingdom's last hope with the foolishness of a rushed decision and forgotten patience. 

Regret gutted his usual spitefire of a tongue and rendered him defenseless, clueless. He did not have the knowledge to end their fate and while he had expected bad, he had been living according to a sonnet of false hope in his heart and how he'd take a fall for it. 

It was a storm on them but no wind actually blew in the barely lit chamber. The natural light died down and they were left in the dull hope of a dim light. 

Logan pursed his lips, his face keeping up a wall of safety for the others. The emotions started crumbling it down like a biscuit more than a massive formation of solid stone.   
Before he could part his pale oops to speak upon, his right hand man was quick to push the Prince away in a storm of anger. 

The wind changed and the guards simultaneously stepped between the little hamster ball of rage and the graceful Prince. 

Even as the force of a push hit him, his face barely lost the superiority it expressed and it seemed as if Roman was a flower that fed on defiance.   
A smile grew on his lips, gradually blooming into a joyful giggle. The Prince caught himself as he nearly toppled over, suffocating on his own laughter when he realised the anger and violence directed towards him. 

He was truly despised by these people. 

Never has he experienced more thrill than the desperation of civilians sentenced to death before his feet. 

It took Roman a while to compose himself and as he was done squatting over his amusement, he rose to his glory and eyed the bitter ball of fury that had felt urged to action in the eye of death. Right as he looked at Roman with the golden eyes of a blessed saint. 

"Step aside", he ordered. 

Roman wanted to have a good look on the forgotten member of the group. 

As his guards stomped back to his left and right, the automatic movement of their gear made a gritting sound.   
Once away, they revealed a much smaller figure in front of Logan. 

Before, the Prince had assumed the magician to be the evil mastermind but the sheer attack of a royal right in front of the Royal Guard must be the outlet of a person responsible for a whole group's death.   
His smile, ever-present in front of the wretched and belittled, widened as he eyes the person. 

It was hard to identify who or what they were but the delicate structure of their figure ythe fragile statue and instinctive defense to their leader made Roman believe that he was dealing with a spiteful yet proud lady in purple.   
However, layers of black and purple clothing and a hood along with fuchsia bangs hid the precious face of Roman's little delight. 

Roman had grabbed the last bit of this kingdom's hope and it was a little princess he could win over for his personal strive of pleasure. 

He turned around, walking behind his guards to pace up and down the room again. The sentinels stayed in place, seemingly brooding over the joy of beheading the little group one by one later. 

It took several pages of thought and patience as the Prince slowly walked up and down the length of the chamber, his movement accompanied by the consistent click-clack of the his heels.   
With a swift movement, he turned around and burdened the group with another smile, his red eyes gleaming in forbidden euphoria. 

"Get the little one", he ordered, his lips twisting into a mask of terror. 

In a flash, the two guardians at the front grabbed the little bundle of purple who barely reached the floor as lifted by the hovering men. 

Not a sound was spilled by the group. 

Logan, white as the snow that started to fall outside like the ashes of their burnt dreams, took his position before the group again, now standing before the three datemates.   
The others in the group were behind them. They were just eight. 

Now they were seven and Remy and Emily squeezed Patty's hand as her face mutated into the painting of the only emotion she rarely ever felt.   
Pure blackness carved wrinkles into her features. Her eyes aged by decades as Logan's right hand struggled against the grip of the guardians. 

Still, not a sound left one of them. Logan has taught them to not show even one sign of weakness but apparently, the other had been too overwhelmed by anxiety to rule by mind. 

The guards brought the struggling blob of black close to their Emperor and once in reach, the weak struggles became a sudden firework of vengeful movements and sudden ticks into Roman's direction who dodged with little effort - rather, a certain amusement for the situation. 

"You're feisty", he remarked, his smile growing into something found on that side side of the coin nobody had bothered looking at before. 

The person ceased the struggle and shot liquid fired of golden daggers at the Prince. 

"Take me", the shadow-like figure spoke and a momentary flash of emotion hushed over Roman's face. It was as if reality turned into fantasy.   
"Leave them and take me instead - I'm the leader and they're useless without me!" 

The voice was so incredibly neutral. Not too high, not too low. It sounded diplomatic, maybe edging into more depth than higher pitch. It rose a cold threat to Roman as the words demanded something. Demanded the power to overrule him and his words. 

Roman braved himself for a moment, his facial features sliding into a blank expression that almost made him look... Gentle. The tightly pressed mimicked emotion of a joy's flicker seemed gone as he seemed to contemplate the proposal.   
The Prince clicked his tongue, letting his shoulders drop with a heavy sigh. 

"Now, as alluring as this may sound, I want something more convincing. Why would you be special enough for me to keep you? Or do you want me to kill you?" 

The icy temperature of the missing sun rays turned into a dry heat as Roman's words left hot mouth and flew across the room.   
It was just a movement of his tongue, some vibration for his vocal chords that decided over death and life of many or few. Or maybe just a single soul. 

Maybe there was just one soul to be saved in this room. Or just one person to prove themselves as soulless.   
But as long as the Prince had a say in the kingdom, his simple words were the extension of his sword when he himself felt too proud or merciful to draw it for his personal judgement. 

Roman stared into the golden eyes of steel hope before him and before he knew it, he had agreed to it. His hand motioned for the guards to lower the small one.   
Their hands kept around the rioting attacker anyway, curling around them like chains. 

Once more, silence filled the room and the coolness replaced s the previous tension with a prediction of worse, of subtle and devouring doom.   
A bird coached outside but a frog reached up and tied its tongue around the bird's foot, bringing it down and jumping onto it so often that the bird stopped moving. 

"If you give me all of you, I'll let your little group go", the Prince proposed in return. The dangerous red of his eyes seemed to claw its way into his words and pose before the group, seductively weighting their destiny in his upside down scales of justice. 

The person before him vaguely shrugged. It was almost ridiculous to remember that a whole group of people was rolling their minds over thoughts and tactics to save at leat one of them. To save maybe a part of the kingdom in the distant future. At some point - or maybe never. 

The whole situation was settle by shoulders pulling themselves up and dropping down just as quick and dismissively as if life and death had never been in question. 

The Prince drank the sight before him, relishing in the taste of the joy experienced when excited for something one hoped to turn out just as wished. 

Eyes filled with stars of wonder and miracles, Logan finally took their right to speak. 

"Preposterous. You're not going for us", they demanded, his tone cold like a statue but words alive with the force of a command.   
Logan had the pen in their hand and wanted to settle for writing the end to this story by himself, to decide its happenings. 

But life never was that easy. 

Not really. 

Instead of laughing, Roman rose his hand and made a movement with his right as if to throw the group away, out of his kingdom and gone from his side. 

"I would love to host you for a little while longer but maybe you could come by another time for a little bit of tea and biscuits", he offered, grey mockery tainting his seemingly innocent words and spoiling them until their appealing surface imploded like wet pastry. The Prince flashed Logan a smirk with his polished white teeth. His left waved over to a door and he gave the guardians with the bundle of dark wrath a direct nod.   
"I'm afraid I will have to attend more significant business first but be my guest soon. For now, my guards will be your delightful guides out of my lairs." 

They marched off, the angry ally motionless. Apparently, the mood of defeat has sparked from the leader over to the others.   
The heavy door Roman had kicked open swung back into place with a loud and ear rattling bang. 

Patty had her head hanging low and Remy stared after the Prince in rage while Emile clenched and unclenched his fist. 

Logan was a statue of their former self but even this situation seemed to be nothing but a temporary setback for them as they closed their eyes for just enough to realise the situation and brainstorm the next actions.   
Maybe their group was shrunken to a new minimum but yet again it wouldn't before than a delay for their inevitable plans.   
Still.. They couldn't deny the piercing pain in their chest that spread like a wildfire and smoked into his mind. 

Their right hand was taken away and the whole group was a shadow of their previous glory and courage to move into the one and only hope they have believed to have. 

The group was left in silence before the remaining guards moved towards them.   
Once the Prince was out, the defenders took their order into execution and made sure to accompany them out of the castle.   
The magic ban followed the group, haunting them as they disappeared into the darkness of the approaching night. 

Together, they now shared the knowledge of more than a failed mission but also another piece of hope lost. Another blast to the constantly wilting resistance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets to see the Prince. Roman is super happy about seeing hit new price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sowwy for the late update. I wanted to be earlier but migraines really knocked me out. It has been a jarring week for me buuut I got all chapters down to go. Just need some editing for them c: This story cannot end up unfinished.  
The tags will update.

Virgil struggled as one of the servants started undressing him.   
He bit with his teeth, and his jaw snapping shut as he tried to grasp someone's fingers or at least a little bit of skin to deal damage. His hands were stretched out in wild tornadoes of whirling fingers who clawed anyone coming closer. 

Sadly, quantity and quality weren't balanced enough for him to get his will through rage and he eventually felt himself held down enough to rob him of his wretched garments. 

"Please cooperate, Lady", one of the servants pleaded but Virgil hissed at her, his arms crossed before his chest as he tried to keep at least a bit of clothing, just one little stripe of pride.   
He might have been in captivity now but his feral attitude would never go down with a fight but having been Logan's partner for long enough, he knew when a fight could turn the tables and.. When it was hopeless effort and nothing but a waste of energy. 

"Lady, please!", another voice exclaimed but it sounded less desperate. The voice seemed rather demanding, as if daring to give him yet another restraining command to mock his current state. His whole life and all his struggle. 

The pale skeleton of pale skin leaped out of their grip and away from the water.   
He looked back at them, fire and fury burning on his skin. 

He was quite a sight and sincerely the best report on the local citizens' wellbeing. 

Dirt and scars ran over his skin and crossed cryptic lines of magical lines that patterned his skin like a system of roads and houses. 

"Maybe she is a cat and the magic keeps her from turning", a third servant whispered behind a worn out, sweaty hand, "look at these marks and and.. The hissing." 

Virgil moved forward as quickly as he could but his frantic attempts at an escape had obviously blinded his vision enough to make him unaware of missing servant number two who suddenly reappeared in front of him, guards in tow who quickly grabbed him by hid hands and legs and tied his arms together. 

With an exposed chest, washing shouldn't be too much of a problem for the servants anymore.   
His lower half was barely covered by the last bit of ripped black fabric clinging to his knees and hips as he struggled against the enemy's grip. 

"Cut it out already", one of the guards growled as Virgil tried to squirm against him, his teeth clenching around a crippled thumb as he jerked his head to the side. 

A marrow-freezing scream filled the room and the resisting captivate was bashed into the wooden tub of water in the middle of the room. 

After that, only the silent sound of droplets jumping back into the mother water could be heard as the hood was finally off along with the rest of the pale body's protective clothing.   
Lines of colour ran up and down the whole body and the figure hugged themselves as it sat in the tub like a wet dog.   
Motionless. 

"If you want more trouble, you can continue but just because you're a woman doesn't mean i will go easy on you.   
Fucking punks." 

The gruff voice sent shivers down the spines of every servant present.   
An air of regret and shame settled over the four abandoned figures as the guard went back to the previous position by the door. But he kept his attention split between the outside and inside happenings. It was just as if he was waiting for yet another little act of defiance he could crush between his fingers like a struggling ant. 

The third servant came back, mumbling something under her breath about going too far and then she placed a warm hand on the cold pale shoulder before her.   
The cool skin flinched away and the patterned person's head whipped to the side to look at her. 

Head covered in purple bangs, soggy like a drained toddler and heavy like the wet bastard he was, Virgil was dripped into the water and he could have just pissed himself with the amount of disgust and shame running down his skin.   
The water stuck to his dirty skin and he felt as if suddenly dumped in a royal sauna while he was just a little commoner. 

The titles didn't mean shit to him but the situation, the exposition.   
He couldn't cope with that. But he had to.   
He had been through a lot worse and he needed to hold on. 

If the others weren't around then it was on him to defeat the Prince. He just needed to remind himself of it. Virgil needed to keep it in his mind, to recall why he was doing that, why it mattered to stay strong and go and try. 

He and the others wanted a better world. They were fighting for a better life and they had infiltrated the castle in hopes of better chances for everyone in the kingdom. 

The punk swallowed the bile burning in his throat and turned back to the servants. 

"Let's get this over with", he spoke, his voice cold but distant. 

The servants startled a little but the three got to the work, scrubbing him clean and touching him everywhere.   
All the while, they called him "lady" for a some ominous reason and whenever he heard their words, his heart broke a little more. His resolution faded into a darkish shadow of what used to be his courage and he clenched his teeth together. 

He was a man. Nothing and nobody could take that way.   
He had a body that looked male and he felt male and the others accepted him as he was, as Virgil and nobody else. 

How could they get the idea of him being a girl? He didn't look like one neither did he act like one. 

The servants tugged him out of the dirty tub and into a new body of a water. This time, it smelled of something stinging and artifical.   
It reminded Virgil of royalty and the thick clouds of aftershave used to cover up the sins and shame of the higher-ranked people. The perfidy of the individuals that were the highest and lowest at the same time. 

He despised them. 

It wasn't the reason he wanted them gone and down from their high ranks and golden crowns. Virgil couldn't care less about literally anything but wealth and reputation.   
All he wanted was to live without being badly influenced by having someone above him but he did know whether it could be possible in a system to be established. 

He didn't know..   
Maybe Logan knew. He would ask him after he got out of here. Because he would get out of here and show the prince guy who the real man was. 

It was funny, Virgil mused as the trio disappeared and someone else took their place to fumble around his body. When he had met Logan, he didn't even have a fracture of his current courage. He had been called a defeatist by the mage more than once but he had eventually grown out of it. 

Sometimes he wondered whether he would be the same without Logan or any of the others. Even Declyn. 

Virgil looked around the place where he was kept.   
The servants prepared some sort of fabric that shined in the light but he could barely see it. Everything seemed blurry and distant and he barely felt the touches to his body as he was pulled out of the tub and tugged into a standing position. 

He barely felt his body and the fingers on his skin seemed dull to his metal-shelled, shallow body. 

The punk saw a silvery gleaming garment being draped over his body. The bathrobe hung down to the lower end of his knees. It felt heavy and cold on him and for a moment, he was scared of freezing to death and he let out a gasp as the cooling fabric lowered onto his shoulders.   
He flinched, his body moving half-heartedly as he slowly jerked away from the touch of a man with a grim look on his face. 

Virgil wanted to say something but words seemed to escape his mind as he tried to pinpoint different sensations around him.   
He closed his eyes to calm himself, focusing on his breathing and barely minding the artifical odor attached to his body. 

The punk missed his magic, he missed using his energy to connect to the world. 

The new man with the furrowed eyebrows pushed him forward and Virgil took the cur to start walking into the only direction he understood.   
Actuay he didn't even understand it, he would probably walk into walls and nothingness if needed because the world around him was nothing but distant scenes of dreams to him. 

He heard a voice yelling "Move!" but he didn't know where it came from as his clean feet walked over cool, polished tiles.   
Something pushed against his back again and he struggled to stay on his feet. He opened his eyes again, blinking in desorientation while he stumbled through Broad corridors. 

Virgil continued counting his breath, feeling the hot and cold sensations in his body to balance out and the world become less strange to him. 

He hated this stupid shit. 

It took a little longer for the world to shift into sharper focus and he blinked several times to adjust to the darkness he was suddenly left in.   
Apparently he was left alone again, the shuffling feet and stomping breath behind him seemed gone by now and the intrusive voice in his neck was gone.   
All he could hear was the soft echo of past sounds in the great hall he was left in. 

It was too dark for him to properly see.   
He eyed his marks, hoping they would suddenly start glowing in solidarity and show him the way or at the very least illuminate his location for him to find himself in this abandoned castle. 

He felt as if on a boat, lost in the middle of the sea while the winds started picking up into a storm and the clouds conspired into heavy rain and turbulent flashes of lighting. 

Of course, his marks barely radiated any light and the thin fabric of his white bath robe covered up a great deal of the weak illumination that tried to aid his sight. 

It didn't matter anyway because as Virgil tried to make out more than just the outline of his hands, a noise came up. 

No. Not a noise. A voice. 

His voice. 

"I have missed you, my lady. You sure took your time getting ready for me", the voice spoke. 

The cold ice of the Prince's words drove into Virgil's veins and clung to his wrists like shackles.   
This really hadn't gone according to plan but this man was really testing him and his patience.   
In short, the purple haired punk was boiling in the inside and as much as words hurt him, and brought back more pain than this excuse of a ruler probably ever experienced, he would try his best to not give Roman this satisfaction of making him get involved in his little psychological bullshit game. 

Remaining silent, Virgil closed his eyes.   
It was too dark to elsee anyway but he wasnt restricted and if he was truly alone with the man, he might be able to take him down, dethrone him and end a tyranny.   
He would be able to free a whole kingdom and make Logan proud, let Patty go back home and have their other friends retreat to a dignified, humane life. 

Virgil let out a breath, cool and composed.   
His marks started shining in the usual fuchsia. They used to be a mad purple colour, almost as dark as black, but ever since his run in with Dee, he had the tainting colour on him. It was also on his hair and it didn't leave but it served his aesthetics.   
By now he honestly dug the purple. It was a small compromise. 

"Annabelle", Roman sang and Virgil had to refrain from gagging at not only the sound but also the word coming from the other man's mouth. 

Logan always said that words were the real weapons in a world in which information was mightier than a title. 

He might be right about that. 

However, this was more than a word. It was a name. Not his name, anyway. Not anymore. It was merely the name of a dead person, a dead body. It was the title of past memories and a story that used to be connected to him before he had met Dee and traded his everything to get out. 

The punk grabbed his wrists with his hands and squeezed them with his slender fingers. 

"Listen, I know everything about my new lady. You can tell me, there is no reason to be shy with me. Eden told me all about you." 

Virgil clenched his own arms harder his fingers digging deep into his skin and breaking some tissues.   
He ignored the stinging burns and the slight trickles of blood that flooded out in rivulets of red. 

The shining lines on his body flickered as if a wind was disturbing the stability of their flame - in case they were a candle, that is. But Virgil wasn't a body of wax. He was a living being by now. 

"Sure thing, if you say so, your hoeness or whatever", he replied casually, his hands letting go and his marks changing into a slightly darker shade as the younger one started following the sound of Roman's voice. 

He wanted to rip this guy's eyes out and tie up his vocal chords with it until he was rid of tone and banned from communication. 

While at it, he should take his fingers too. 

Virgil continued walking, his bare feet making no sound as he inched closer.   
Be careful. Be silent.   
Remy was better at this, no matter how much of a loudmouth he was. 

He stopped, his feet coming to a rest. 

The commoner didn't know whether he could move further and the sound of Roman's voice had died in the vastness of this hall long ago.   
While he wanted to latch onto the man and take him out, he couldn't risk bumping into him or any other mistake alike... Especially because Virgil was a glowing ball in the dark which was why he usually kept his whole body covered, even his eye bags since even they glowed when he used his magic. 

He just hoped the arrogant Prince would trip over his ridiculously high ego and fall victim to his own pride.   
Maybe Logan said clever stuff about words but Virgil's firm believe was "pride shall fall" and he stood by it. 

In any case, Roman didn't talk and he didn't move.   
The invisible cat and mouse game was on and Virgil didn't know whether he could identify enough as the mouse to bring down Roman with his own faults and flaws.   
... And his impulsive stupidity, of course. 

He decided to take another step and go for it. First contact meant first try and the anticipating of waiting for the royal had his insides shower in the tingling burns of doom. 

At last, he moved his foot to step forward and caught an obstacle. 

He should have fucking looked at his feet because they were edging on the start of a little stair case and the nice slip up sent Virgil flying into the mercy of gravity's arms.   
Or rather Roman's arms as the bastard excuse of a man drew the falling fairy light against his chest and up the stairs. 

Virgul gasped as the suffocating heat of another person engulfed him. The sweet smell of Roman's neck and his overdone sugarcoating of dead names had him nearly gag. 

The foreign touch, the invasion on his body had his internal emergency alarm go off and he started struggling again, throwing wild punches against the heat and pushing his glowing light against the spineless dark. 

His captivate simply chuckled and squeezed him further between his arms, forcing the punk to make his own body align with his string chest and the younger one could only whine at the crushing pressure of brutal force suffocating his existence.   
His space was no more and his squirming soon ceased into a defeated, weak writhing thag reminded Roman of a harmless infant that cried for milk. 

Maybe Roman's lady was hungry. 

He surely was. 

Virgil's guts were on fire and so were his marks.   
The fierce orange burned thought his body and shone onto the undeserving face of cruelty and a bunch of regrets. 

The smaller punk fought against the chest in front of him but he was held close enough to be restricted in his movement.   
Roman had him trapped against his chest in a tight grip and with so little movement, he just couldn't move his hands much and with every moment of him fighting against the chains of arms that Roman had wrapped him up in. 

"Annabella, please", the scolding sound warned as the trap became even more narrow around him and Virgil feared for his breath. His bones seemed to grit together and the immense pressure on his body, especially his rib cage, cut bruises and intense discomfort into his body.   
He felt his feet loose ground as he was lifted upwards and his seething marks illuminated the mask of horror before his hoping eyes. 

"Sh-shut up", Virgil hissed back, his voice strained and it sounded wet in a way only distant oceans and abandoned adults sounded.   
It didn't help that his breathing was still strained from the crushing weight pressing into his ribs against his lungs. 

The second in command knew no other way but to butt his head against Roman's royal face and jump right at him, biting into his nose. 

The Prince let out a guttural growl of anguish but his hands instinctively removed themselves from the rioting person, hence released the man.   
In white rage, he let his hands grab whatever he could find and the closest that was, seemed to be the fleeting bathrobe Virgil could now feel tug at his body. 

The fleeing man was quickly sliding out of the fabric and made a run for it.   
He needed a weapon, a distraction, or at least a way to find the magical barrier and dismantle it in any way.   
Then again, Logan knew the spells better than him softly he would have to be patient and wait. 

"Annabelle", the voice called again and Virgil ran further, his body butt naked as he tried to navigate through the dark room.   
Not a single light was shining for him and his magic wasn't working. He was basically blind safe for the little shimmer of light his body radiated shamelessly. 

He was the blinking ball toy that would fly around after being bewitched until caught and smashed by children.   
Virgil knew the game but his racing heart did not like it, as much as his will mind was against the idea of being so easily detectable. 

Too bad he couldn't turn off his lights, only dim his marks a little but that needed a calmer mood and more concentration because his natural magic, that was bound to his existence only, was never asleep. 

Virgil ran straight away, his vision as blurry as his plan as he only tried to find a way out, to get away from this source of memories and past he wanted and needed to leave behind him. 

The punk made sure to stretch out his arms running.   
His ears filtered out any noise coming from his padding feet and the echo of his rushed pants but the approaching horror of shadow and trauma behind him was clear as day to him and Virgil just wanted to disappear, wanted to run away. 

He nearly crashed into a door but stopped himself quickly enough to slow down accordingly and reach out for the handle to pull at the door, the light of the hallway finally streaming in and relieving his need to see.   
Sure, his eyes burned due to the torches surprising his night-washed golden orbs but he didn't have the time to let his pain get in the way. 

No guards, no nothing.   
He needed to hurry. This was a golden opportunity. 

The little man ran down the first hall he thought looked familiar and a darkness settled in his stomach as his rapidly throbbing heart seemed to go even wilder despite the relief of having found a clear way and distance to this nightmare of a ruler. 

The longer he hasted his body through the same and awfully boring looking halls, the more the darkness seemed to infest in his body. 

Had he been poisoned? 

The sensation seemed to bite him from within, make him dizzy and his sight blurry once more while his guts seemed to writhe in agony.   
He kept going, every step rattling his pain and pushing it into a deeper level of intensity. 

Something was wrong, something was wrong.   
Where was the end? He must have come from there! Virgil had tried so hard to remember the outlines of the castle before entering and also while they had been arrested. 

Anxiety dug deeper into him and he stopped, realising that the echo in his ears was his own heartbeat pulsating in his hearing organ enough for him to imagine the monster being after him still.   
Instead, he was alone.   
He took the first door he could, still no guards and barely any lights. 

Was everyone dead? Did Logan come back? Or was the kingdom just starved even in the royal Chambers? 

He didn't take more time to ponder on these questions like the sweat resting on his pale forehead.   
The marks on his body were a weak blue by now and the light emenated in slow waves as he scanned the room.   
His neck snapped from one to the other side but he couldn't possibly find anything. 

Shit. What was that? Where was he??


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is mean so there is a lot of violence and choking

Virgil turned around.   
The sight before him had him freeze and his already pale body scaled down to a cloud white as the door he had used as entrance was gone and the room started to distort in colours and lighting. 

The walls turned from a brown into a rather goldenish gleam, the ebony ground was slowly fading into white and red features and it nearly felt like a chess board to him.   
The room stretched out before his eyes and his mind felt as if burnt to charcoal as he witnessed the melting illusion before him. 

"I advised you to stay still. I said you would have to give yourself to me and all you do is throw away my kindness." 

Virgil's blood turned colder than the cruelty in his life and he felt his sweat freezing onto his body as cold shivers racked through his body.   
This voice... The knowledge behind these words. 

" You betrayed me even though I spared your treacherous and filthy friends. This is your thanks for me saving your life?", the voice thundered worse than a hurricane and struck Virgil's body worse than any lightning could. 

Roman's wrath had proved itself to be fruitless in the sense of destroying any soil and hope for growth after his unleashed storm of fury anger. 

The hunger and constant strain of having been awake for days was beating him up his current state.   
While every movement brought the sensation of heavy and dragging resistance, even pain into his tired muscles, Virgil knew he needed to continue and wait for his chance to resist. 

But the sudden chase and the whole violence putting yet another obstacle to his necessary recovery was salted lemon juice in his cuts and wounds.   
Roman, in all royalty, was the worst that could have happened to him in his current state.   
Virgil was more right about that than he could currently imagine but he would quickly learn just how right he had been even now. 

Roman came from behind, a red spot on his forehead from where Virgil had knocked his own head into the Prince's.   
He grabbed the glowing figure again, this time kicking his knees to make him kneel and his other hand entangled in his puppet's neck as he dragged his "Annabelle" to the ground and sat on top of her back. 

A cracking could be heard as the undernourished bones shrieked for mercy.   
Virgil clenched his teeth in defiance and kept his mouth from pronouncing the pain in his body. 

From above him, a chuckled could be heard. 

Virgil's hand were taken from his control and forced into a tight hug from a tearing sensation that dug into his skin and burned hot red marks into his paleness.   
The punk stayed silent. His insides boiled and his outside maintained the Logan like coolness he admired along with his other comrades. 

"You'll behave now" he murmured, a special emphasis on the last word.   
Roman's mouth was almost in his ear and a wet feeling intruded his personal space. A moist muscle dragged itself over the shell of his ear and Virgil almost let out a cry. 

The slick wetness was on him and it was nearly in him, too.   
The disgust was in him nonetheless and writhed, his body just begging to escape this situation. 

The heat of tears bit at his eyes and he squirmed further. 

A laugh followed the kick, the patronising sound sinking into his system and freezing Virgil's attempts at getting out, getting away. 

It just had to get worse.. Why.. Why again.. 

The weight removed itself from his back but the weight in his lungs and sanity was irreversibly as the first tears fought to break from his eyes and release themselves into his cheeks. 

A sudden yank moved him to his knees again. His hands were in Roman's as the Prince dragged him up the stairs by his ties and forcefully pushed him against a metal something.   
His head collided with the heavy material and tickled a groan from his mouth. 

His golden eyes merely glared at Roman. 

Apparently, he had been trapped in an illusion, thinking he could disappear and save himself and the others with his witty ideas but he hadn't realised the magic bestowed upon him. 

He should have realised Roman's smell was different from before.   
He should habe realised a completely empty and dark castle just screamed falsehood all over the compassion-forsaken place.   
But he didn't and now he was to Roman's feet, apparently leaning against some sort of golden royal whatever chair thingy. 

... Uhh, Logan had called that throne, right? It was a throne, yeah. A seat reserved for true royals only. 

Nobody else's butt was rotten enough to bathe in the golden tears of robbed and violated human dignity or sit in the broken dreams of crushed children. 

Roman had seated himself, looking down at the his personal trophy and wildly defeated creature.   
The feral attitude didn't help him in anything other than entertain Roman's capricious desires by now and he didn't even know whether right now wasn't just another trick and means of deceit. 

"Come up here~", the Prince sang.

His voice seemed void of their past, overlooking the violence and not minding the bruises that had already started showing on his unnaturally pale skin.   
Purple, nearly black blops of colour were scattered over his ribcage and shoulders where Roman and the guards had held him.   
Another one was on his left cheek and his chest from the guard who had thrown him across the room. 

Such nice personell. 10/10, would come by again for a precious violence massage. 

Virgil didn't budge when Roman called out to me him. Even the nudge to his head with Roman's knee had him motionless.   
Even if he tried, he was sure he didn't have the physical energy to move at third point but then again, he didn't want to comply to the fuck face anyway so there he went sucking and pouting on how he wouldn't break Virgil. 

He refused. No matter how scary this would get.  
And he had the feeling it was about to get super scary. But he could sit through that. He would go through whatever it took to have the tyranny end. 

"Annabelle", the royal repeated, his foot rising just to meet the floor with a loud thud.   
"Do not test me." 

The punk flinched but kept his back leaned against the throne. He didn't reward the childish tantrum and abusive games with his attention, let alone his face.   
A mind in his voice kept correcting the name Roman was asking for, anyway. 

He wasn't Annabelle anyway.   
He had never been her, not really. 

Well, whatever existential crisis and identity evaluation Virgil was brooding on.   
All the rumination left Roman unimpressed and he eventually yanked Virgil's head back by his hair. 

"Come up here or I'll make you. Resistance is useless if you didn't notice yet. I will get my will and if I have to break yours, it will be just more pleasant to me." 

Bile came up in his throat and the rioter forced it down with a swallow.   
He couldn't exactly move to Roman's whims anyway. But the royal could also fuck his own ass so fuck that. Virgil's body was always good enough to somewhat defy. And if it was just about dismantling gender expression and sexuality. 

Roman started yanking at his head again and the pain got more intense, less dull. A striking intensity hit him an he let out a groan as he realised why this time it hurt much more.   
He was pulled up to his knees and even feet by his hair and the Prince only stopped pulling at his hair like a pet's leash when he felt Virgil settle in his lap on the throne.   
The naked skin connected with his clothed legs and Virgil blinked in blurry confusion. 

His last bit of stamina was gone and it took him a long time to realise he was on the royal's throne all of a sudden.   
Everything was so dark and blurry to him. Like seeing everything through a black veil.   
The Prince didn't seem to mind his confusion too much but instead felt invested with staring at him. It was almost as if his mind was painting a mental image of the punk.   
Maybe to remember him naked. Maybe to remember the day he broke his foe enough to make him submit to him completely. 

When his eyes eventually caught on the unfamiliar face, he moved his heavy body, trying to squirm away from Roman.   
From the outside it looked like a drunk-spirited idiot falling in some sort of super slow time frame. In reality, it was just a weak man trying his best to get away from danger but not being able.

The tingling weight in Virgil's body felt more intense and it felt like heavy heavy sleep but he couldn't quite see it.   
Even sleep was far away.. Eternal sleep. 

"Annabelle. You misbehaved a lot and I want you to make up for it do you understand me?", the Prince started. His voice growled.   
The slave had to obey his words and pay attention to him and solely him.   
"I want you to make up for it or I will have to be mean again. Do you understand? I'm a nice man. Don't make me be mean to you, we both don't like that, now, do you?" 

His face turned to Roman, still looking rather hazy. His golden eyes looked glazed like honey goodness.   
He didn't nod nor did he obey so the Prince continued, one of his hands finding the hair he had previously abused so much. His fingers tangled into it, softly brushing through it and caressing the scalp with nearly loving care. 

The punk's hazy mind was far away by now and he leaned into the touch, curling up and resting on Roman's lap.   
In his rebooted thought process, he was caught in dreams and yearning for his love. The comfort of warmth reminded him of cool Logan's leading style and his composed aura. 

While the rotten royal was still staring into Virgil's soul, demanding to have him oblige to his whims, he was still rubbing his fingerpads against his scalp.   
His heart wondered whether this was true happiness.   
He heard the deflated breathing of his little toy and a thought crossed his mind that maybe this was a good ending. Maybe it could stop here and it was fine. But his firing mind shot arguments in return. 

The kid had dared invading his home, had brought strangers into his castle and tried taking him down more than once.   
Now, he was defeated and sleeping from exhaustion, eyes half shut and breathing shallow.   
The little intruder deserved this and he wasn't even done with his little Annabelle. 

He had promised go punish the leader of crimes and he would do that, especially after the little bundle had dared to hit him into his beautiful face like the fucking bastard he was.   
But the little princess would learn from his mistakes and would be sorry.   
And after he had punished him, the illusion would wear off and he would see Annabelle's real body like Declyn had said. 

But for now, he was being patient and watched the vulnerability before him, drinking it in.   
Another wicked smile spread over his face, distorting the seemingly handsome exterior he had been gifted with for the means of deception. 

He pulled out a little glass vial. His fingers curled around the transparent wall that divided the thick poppy coloured liquid from his bronze skin.   
A little shifting was required but he soon plopped the little cork stopper, hearing it wander downwards in a little echo of sounds as the stairs to his divine golden throne were tapped by the soft object.   
He brought the vial to Virgil's pale lips and carefully flipped it the heavy liquid creeped downwards, moving pass his lips and spreading in his dry mouth. 

It only took a shirt moment for the little man to spring to life, his body jerking awake in the lap of violence.   
He flinched away, his body trying to get out of the vial's reach bud Roman's other hand shoved him back around the little glass container once more. 

Virgil struggled, his body weakly flinching and trembling against the foreign grip but his exhaustion held him down better than the Royal could have ever trained to do the himself.   
His physical vessel denied the act of saving himself and his heart started alerting his system, ringing against itself and echoing like a lone bell in an old abandoned ruin. Shallow and brazen but void of life anything but a pointless echo. 

The little liquid dripped into the helplessly squirming baby and the Prince smiled genuinely.   
He lived for this sight. Virgil's eyes fluttered shut again and once he softly removed the vial, the whole body came back to life.   
The tied up hands started moving to no avail and the personal fun time man tried standing up, his throat twitching in repulsion. 

OH he wouldn't. 

Roman's hand shot forward, gripping his throat and squeezing it. He felt the little muscle strands against his grip and the light resistance of an unused voice.   
His other hand removed itself from his hair but the gentle expression in his fingers was gone, replaced by the cold-hearted judgment a ruler needed in order to maintain justice and balance. 

His hand clasped Virgil's mouth shut before he could spit out the liquid. His right curled around the thin throat and squeezed shut.   
The colour drained from Virgil, slowly yet effectively. The Prince watched in morbid interest how Virgil went from naturally pale to whiter than snow. His hands felt the resistance fade and satisfaction flooded his own face, tugging his lips into a soft smile.   
Roman felt something against his palm but he wouldn't budge until the unfocused gold in the punk's eyes was finally giving in. 

"You'll swallow or you'll choke", Roman ordered and his hand around his throat removed itself in favour of squeezing his nose shut. 

Now, he waited. 

Hot liquid accumulated in Virgil's eyes as he fought down the urge to swallow but also the urge to retch in our instinct.   
His body weakly fidgeted and the first tears fell from his golden orbs in bitter hopelessness.   
Eventually, hissing movements stilled and his weakened body gave up, coming to a halt instead of uselessly swinging around like a pendulum predicting the future and answering the hidden questions of your heart. 

God eyes squeezed shut as he admitted defeat and gulped down the strange liquid, a burning sensation immediately mocking his decision as he tried not to spit it out again. 

His nose was relieved and he greedily inhaled the sweet sweet relief of the oxygen.   
That was his little reward. But he probably shouldn't get used to it it.   
The punk's guts filled with a strange feeling and he almost felt glad about what had just happened. His mind scolded him in the back of his thoughts but another voice simply focused on what the heck had happened in the first place and what Roman had given him. 

His mouth was still pressed shut and now that he could breathe again, it felt as if he could sense an overwhelmingly sweet aroma in his mouth.   
He wanted to puke out his senses and entrails, everything but go on with whatever this sicko had in his mind.  
Just... just have this stop from happening.   
But he needed to go on and he knew that there was no other way but to entertain the royal's twisted imagination for just a little while longer. 

Something withing him believed that help was on the way.   
... or at least he wanted to believe it. 

"Good, Annabella, very good", the voice praised. For some reason, it sounded genuine in itself but to Virgil, it was just another reflection of how much he was losing his dignity and pride in these interactions.   
"You finally understand.. You're being very compliant now." 

The grip around his mouth finally removed itself and the dull stinging in his lungs was gradually decreasing as he could breathe through mouth and nose at last.   
His back was arched over Roman's lap as he coughed and then swallowed as much as needed. 

Throat burning and eyes still stinging, he was more than just gasping for air still but also working to make his coughing reflex stop.   
But his head was still shaking in denial.   
If these words had really been more then just in his head, then he needed everything in his power just to deny the other. 

Apparently, the Prince thought of similar things but in his more demented way of it. He seemed to contemplate questionable methods, unknown to Virgil's little mind. Methods to make him shut up and let the other submit to him forever. 

***  
The naked pet was pulled closer, his crouched down position broken as Roman forced him into straddling him and Virgil couldn't do much more but breathe to himself and slump against Roman's chest.   
The royal carefully stroked over his fragile back. Slowly, carefully. 

The warmth was so strangely comforting that Virgil simply wanted to die.   
No matter what he wanted, his body was limb and restricted. Legs squeezed between Roman's legs and the throne, hands tied up in his back - it left him no room to move.   
His lack of energy was yet another indicator of his motionlessness as Roman moved him around like his personal little puppet. 

The punk was pulled into Roman's arms and only groaned in reply at the sudden pull.   
The sound was quickly choked down by Roman covering Virgil's lips with his own and moving his hungry mouth against the other. 

Another fit of sounds could be heard and the nude man tried his best to squirm away once more but again, to no avail. It was as iv someone would expect him to finally give up his fruitless attempts after failed after failed try but here he went again, trying to just resist enough for his feelings to be a little less buried down in a ditch. 

He didn't go through the hell of life just to be humiliated.   
Maybe he was a fucking dumbass and he was a naive fool to hope for better but at the same time, he was certain that Roman just wanted to fuck with him to break him, maybe exploit his weakness and all this shit just for the sake of making himself feel superior like the rotten Prince he was.   
Of course he was superior and better. Morally, socially, all that bullshit. 

Roman held him close by his hip, the other hand still on his back but as soon as the struggle started, his hold on Virgil intensified.   
His hand travelled from his back to go further up and land on his neck, pulling him closer in order to make the struggle cease.   
Another sound came but it was muffled by the arrogant douchebag pushing his tongue against his lips. 

The right hand felt his heart race away from the invasive attempts and he turned his head away like a toddler trying to deny any more taste of that disgusting food parents wanted them to eat.   
But Roman did not exactly comply to this.. His aggravating hold had his fingers dug into Virgil's hips, another marking force diving against his unhealthily pale skin. 

The sudden sensation had the punk groan out in response and he felt his lips split in pain before his mouth felt yet another intrusion. 

For a moment, he wondered why he had been given a wash when he was just dirty again, dirty in Roman and covered by his filthy wants and dirty secrets... 

It didn't matter now, it never matter red because the royals took what they wanted without ever minding other people's feelings or needs.   
Why would they bother when they never even considered even asking about the right names or conditions after all. They were just faces and phases, little means to an end. Whatever end the royals decided, whatever they pleased to achieve. 

A strange tongue licked the weird sweetness off his mouth and pushed against his own wet muscle. 

And then it was over and the bruising grip was gone, the pressure on his neck, holding him down and keeping him in place. The tongue and icky sweeteness, the detested force of another mouth's fucking feeling of mouth was finally over.   
Virgil curled in on himself, his head turning to the side as he desperately tried to wiggle out of that grip and get that feeling of these lips out of his system, get his mouth cleansed. 

He hunched over and spit out the dirty ooze of another person's liquid in him and there was that warmth on his back again.   
This time he cried. 

Bitter tears welled up in his lost eyes, the betrayed sun of hope in his soulful orbs was dulled to a mere colour rather than an expression of his true person.   
The dam broke and watered his desperate cheeks. Liquid spilled over his face and poisoned his act of making it through. 

He.. He had tried. 

Virgil sniffles as his body weakly curled and unfurled, the painful contractions of his muscles forcing him to nearly throw himself off the edge of the throne as his body ejected the vile intrusion within him.   
No more Roman, no fucking person should get into him that isn't allowed, that isn't supposed to be there.   
His body continued a little further, forcefully pulling up into a ball as he retched nothing out of his stomach. 

He felt bitter, acidic bile remain in his mouth, the uncomfortably warm fluid settled in him and he spit it out, stubbornly.   
It felt like getting a fever out of his system only that he was still caught up in the feverish dreams of wonder and impossibilities. 

The oppressive hand brushed from his power back up to his neck. His body started curling again and his jaw forced open to let out a sour, burning nothing.   
Thin tears burned in his eyes, the only real liquid that was still in him to actually escape from him. 

The weaker man shifted away from Roman, leaning further away and curling into himself as he tried to escape the taunting warmth on his back, attempted at making the condescending fucking touch just finally disappeared before it would sink into him and burn into his skin and memory forvever like a ghost possessing his vessel.   
The unforgettable kept resurfacing in his mind and Virgil just wanted to shake off the Prince like the bratty tantrum-throwing hormonal teen he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and apologies for being so late ♥ I was busy getting home and then there was a birthday and family stuff happened. The usual chaos.  
Hope you enjoyed ♥ feel free to review!  
Have a nice December time, whether you have summer or winter and celebrate or not, just have fun ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very violent and noncon sexy time. Roman is being a bit more than rough and Virgil is being a bit more than just mildly against being with the royal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. We are reaching the peak of dumbass. I will edit the final chapter today/tomorrow as I am finally done with my exams and further preparation.  
I am terribly sorry for the wait and might upload the next chapter a day or two sooner to compensate.
> 
> Enjoy the horrible abuse. (mind the triggers and your own mental health, please!)   
Comments and kudos are welcome! ♥

***

"Annabelle, my dear.. Are you sick?", he asked, his voice dauntingly smooth as he gathered the shivering frame in his arms and gently wrapped him up in his body warmth once more.   
He shook his head but his energy-deprived body didn't have the power to make him back off and bring the necessary distance between them. 

He could do whatever but his fate was sealed with ice and rocks that the little royal had declared him to be his little plaything, stripped off feelings and rights. 

Roman dug his nail-sharp fingers into Virgil's bony hips.   
The grip was unnecessarily harsh as always and he was only paid mind with a pained groan. 

"Talk to me, my lady", he cooed and brushed a hand through his short, purple hair.   
His fingers ran through the strands that were, for once in a long time, not greasy anymore but rather fine-scented and silky with treatment.   
As his head softly swung from one side to another, the fingers curled into his hair, trapping the strands and tugging at the roots enough to move his face. 

He let out a face of displeasure but who was there to care as he whined at the abuse. 

"Talk. This is not a nice request. I'm your ruler and your owner and you", he enforced, slowly spitting out the next words syllable by syllable as he continued , "have to obey me." 

His hair was let go and Virgil clenched his teeth, the pain of his hair sinking into his dizzy head and slowly triggering an absorbing headache. 

"No? You don't want to talk?", he prompted again and Virgil remained silent, still. 

Roman's body seemed to lose his patience and he yanked Virgil's head again, pulling him up to his eye level and assaulting his face again. 

While the royal became short of action, the punk was more than short of reaction and simply groaned in reply at the deed, his instinctive spasms of vulnerability making him more accessible for his enemy just like that bastard wanted him to be.   
A little toy, a puppet, a person who couldn't disobey him because he was too broken and weak to go on. 

Roman slipped his tongue back into the acidic chamber of the other, letting his muscle intrude and explore once more as he marked the new territory with his curious weapon.   
He asserted his dominance swiftly and pushed his tongue against Virgil, nearly pressing enough to make him gag on the man diving into his throat. 

He bit down.   
The punk let his mouth shut down, squeezing the pink organ between his biting tool.   
The intention of letting go was out of the window and he quickly threw the resolution of being too weak out of his mind. 

Roman wanted to jerk away, his throat letting out screams of terror and choked surprise but his mouth was caught and the sound barely reached more than jumping into Virgil's gave and annoying him with the blissful torture he could give back.   
The prisoner smirked and bit down harder but the royal wasn't so easy to be played with and quickly remembered his hands under the aching bolts of raging daggers piercing into his sensitive organ.   
His fingers moved back to Virgil's throat and pressed down onto his wind pipe to paralyse his actions and stop his miserable attempts at defying him once more. 

It took more than that.   
The presumed leader ripped at his tongue as Roman made him slip off further.   
His jaw was trembling in effort as he tried to concentrate his bones on imprisoning this fucked with him.   
His air was cut off by now and his skin faded into the familiar state of missing energy and clear oxygen abuse.

Roman pressed down harshly, his well-fed muscles succeeding int driving enough energy against his victim's throat to choke him into the helpless expression of near-death.   
Virgil's teeth lifted around him as his jaw went slack again as if unclenched by an overruling force. 

Triumph, if not for the end, then at least for the time being. 

Roman let go, letting Virgil collapse into his cool body as he gasped for breath and the prince let his bleeding tongue push against his gum to check the damage.  
Iron taste filled his mouth and if he did not like it, he would have bashed Virgil's head in.

"You filthy bitch just won't give up, huh? Say whatever you want, that's hot that's the hottest foreplay I've ever had." 

His voice spat into his heart and Virgil barely heard the dull sounds that thumped against his ear drums. His marked body was merely glowing in deep purple, the light weak like his chances of survival.

The royal extended his arms for the other.  
This was no time to sleep on a little throw-back. The kid was just delaying the inevitable and that was the truth. There was no more denying what would happen and especially, how.

If Roman wanted something, he would get it.

Virgil was quickly scooped up once more and an instinctive hiss escaped his coughing lips as he was still trying to recover from the harsh dizziness and the rushes of hot and cold drowning his reason out whenever his torturer brought him closer to the edge of death.  
At some point, he might as well just give it up and die before the rotten Prince could get what he so desired in his behated enemy.

The right hand groaned in reply but did not as much as dignify the other with the burning yellow acid in his powerful eyes.

Roman held up Virgil, his head resting against his chest. The continuous beating of a fleeing heart filled the prince with a strange satisfaction that flared up inside of him like a bird whipped out its wings before the big fall.  
He let his hungry lips run over Virgil's collarbone, his mouth closing around his skin and sucking the life and blood out of him until dark marks littered the nearly white body in his arms.

The punk squirmed.  
Roman snickered against his skin as he continued smooching over the smooth baby texture of the other's body, licking and tasting the sweet despair of horror sweat that covered the other in fits of panic and the terrifying knowledge of what was to come.

Finally, he had broken the little riot enough to hear him, to get sounds and sweet sweet moans of bitterness and self-hatred.  
This was the best reward he could have asked for.  
For now, at least.

Roman let his face travel further down, leaving behind trails of bruising darkness like bad weather clouds spilling over the playful colour splashes of a sunset that glowed in every mood of an emotional being.  
He was grinning ear to ear in his crimson delight and was more than quick to attach his lips to more line-stained body parts of the magical being in his lap. The lines started glowing in a soft pink that reminded him of the innocent blush on Virgil's pure face. It was the representation of how much they belonged to each other and how much he loved him.  
Of course fate would bless him with a presumed intruder in order to show him just how surprising yet precious life could be.

The Prince let his mouth leap onto Virgil's exposed nipple that was teasingly right in front as if asking for him to unite their bodies at once.  
His bruised tongue licked over the pinkish nub and slowly started sucking.  
He felt the chest arc against his touch and suddenly pull away again.

Huh. 

Was his lady shy with him? 

''Annabelle, it is alright to want more'', he murmured against Virgil's surprisingly flat chest. His words got caught around the sensitive little nub he still held between his pesky teeth and he teasingly squeezed his jaw a little more down, then eased it up just enough for the little spot to be short of touch once more.

''hnnnn'', Virgil moaned out, his lips quick to shut down and ban the sounds he was making because of his stupidly sensitive body.  
He did not want this. He did not enjoy this. Why the fuck was he reacting to this shit?!  
His hazy mind was twirling and spinning like a twisted spinner that was started and started all over again by the cruel curiosity of children's hands that 'just wanted to play'.

His chest heaved up and down, bile already coming up in his throat again.  
He had never been so disgusted by himself, by this glorious body he had fought and died for.

The prisoner swallowed down his thoughts and weakly pushed his hips against Roman.  
What was supposed to be the gesture of a fight was interpreted in a much more despising way than he could have expected.

Roman wrapped his arms around the hips, his strong arms tensing and muscles twisting in harmonic flexes as he pulled Virgil's lower body into his face.

''hhah-'', Virgil gasped out, his tongue tied and puzzled as he tried to squirm away once more, ''ssstop..''

His voice was a slurring mess, as unfocused as his blurry rose glows and his half-lidded, heavy honey eyes.

To his surprise, however, the heavy feeling of shivering lust stopped just as quick as it had crashed over him in waves of drowning feelings.  
Roman retreated his face and let him sink a little lower into his arms.

Did.. did he play with his consent? Was that some kind of twisted joke?

The prince held him close and gently pecked his ears, making him soak in the sound of his dirty lips smacking together and parting as if he wanted to eat him up even further.

''Everything for you, my little love'', he cooed.

Virgil coughed.  
The honey brown in his eyes squeezed shut again and his body was suddenly trembling, his muscles twitching and making him curl up in the ridiculing warmth of the upper class arms holding him so uncomfortably close.  
Still, he needed the support to stay up with all the restrictions and repressions put onto him.

He felt his tears burn once more but he had no more tears left to cry.  
The rose glow on his body switched again, the colours bleeding into his lines were a sudden green spilling all over the pale sheet of his existence.

''I.. I don't want this'', he spoke eventually, his breathing flat and void of any oxygen.  
No matter how much he sucked in the air around him in an attempt to satisfy his needy lungs, there was not a single draw of breath slowing his erratically contracting body.

Roman was fidgeting under his thighs.  
Fuck, he did not want to see this, he did not want to know why he was shifting around and why he could hear the moving of fabric, the sound of different texture rubbing together and clothing jumping onto the floor, fleeing the scene of crime.

Virgil felt something push against his exposed butt and he gasped out, his barely used vocal chords complaining at the sudden use.  
His voice was already hoarse from how much he had refused to cry and how little he had eaten or drunk but at the same time, puking up some unknown substance Roman has forced into his system with threats of choking him were not much better for his throat either.

The choking... that was just another piece in the puzzle of his broken voice but it was just one of many many more even without the prince ruining his whole body even before this ..this!  
The push intensified and his body shuddered once more, goosebumps running over him and complimenting the acid green glow that came from his lines.

He was magic and his magic was reacting to Roman’s violation of his body. It was the poison pushing into him and breaching his resistance so insistently - as if it was nothing.

‘’Of course you want this’’, Roman cooed as his erection propped up at his hole and Virgil felt yet another sob break from his pained throat, ‘’you just don’t know it yet.’’  
The right hand shook his head again as tearless gasps expressed the green of his disgust. Roman took the invitation to push into him as if the sounds of Virgil’s despair were some sort of twisted affirmation or a ‘go’ sign.

He did not want this. He did not want this.

A heat pushed into him, bruising and stretching his insides and impatiently impaling him with the force of one cruel piece of meat. The string of royalty buried itself deep into him and Virgil had trouble keeping up his contentless breaths as Roman literally stole his air.

The royal was currently nibbling at his neck, kissing and soothing the pale, dry skin with affection that was so warm and strange. It was the stark contrast to his cruel invasion into Virgil’s dry and unprepared but.  
The worst part was that the punk could not help but lean into Roman.  
His stamina was all gone, his body was tired and void of any more power to withstand especially the new strain of physical and emotional abuse that was hurled at him without hesitation or preparation. The heat was driving into and out of him and his body reacted.

Maybe Roman was right, his mind spoke, venom dripping from the words of doom, maybe he did enjoy this odd situation and he was more like Roman thought. Maybe he had wanted this all along- what if he pushed Logan into this whole operation just to get fucked on a throne. The resistance may have been nothing but some sick and twisted elaborate foreplay to get in the mood and tease Roman into tying up his hands and restrict him.  
A.  
Did he like it? Did he enjoy it?  
B.

C.  
’’Ana’’, Roman groaned out and Virgil yelped as hands grabbed his butt and squeezed, hard. Hot pain shot through him and another aching moan escaped his lips, forcing them open and spreading them like he did with Virgil’s knees. Again, against his will, against his word and his body.  
D.  
‘’Anabelle’’, he repeated, his voice a horny moan.

It was so wet and lewd that Virgil felt like another violation just drove into his body.  
This would never end. He did not like it, did not like it. Nonono. He hated this!  
His whiny thoughts continued and he arched as Roman jerked his hips upwards to thrust into him, his cock rubbing his insides.  
The intrusion felt so odd, so strange and weird to him but a certain something in him enjoyed it, yearned for more of this touch.

‘’R-Ro’’, he cried in response before he bit on his lips.  
No. He hated this. He could not do this, he could not say this filthy name and ask for him, ask for more or possibly encourage this weird bastard.

‘’N-no’, he breathed out in panic, his mind crumbling like his injured pride as he realised how hot and bothered he had gotten. Between fits of feverish heat and cold, he was shivering and shuddering, his skin prickling up with goosebumps. His body was torn between good and bad, pain and delight.  
He was squirming his butt against Roman’s crotch and froze again, cursing his movements.

‘’I don’t’’, he repeated, his own moan cutting him off.  
His nipples were asking for attention and Roman’s hungry mouth marked him further and further with dark spots covering his collar bone and reaching down to the front of his throat.  
‘’s-stop’’, Virgil cried out but his hips were gripped again and he howled out at the pressure that dug into his bruises the royal had left on him.  
The teeth bore into him and he felt his body being pulled upwards and then pushed down into the Prince’s pulsating dick.

‘’Anabelle, you are so tight’’, Roman purred out between his heavy groans. They fell like rocks from his mouth and the purrs were after-earthquake trembled of the earth that vibrated through him and shook Virgil to the core much like his dick was wrecking him and his insides.  
It felt like his body was rearranged inside.

‘’I told you, you would like it’’

He dropped Virgil again, his body limply falling against his chest and heaving for more oxygen as his lewd noises quieted down. The wet echo of their sounds was thrown from wall to wall and back at Virgil again.  
Roman chuckled in delight. His sounds were edging on the squeals of an insane person. It was fighting.  
As if hearing these descriptions, the royal defiantly slammed into the unmoving puppet on his lap and the other whimpered in pain and pleasure. The trouble twins dawning onto his system and wrecking him as Roman’s assistance. Loyal, royal. And just as disgusting and self-absorbed.

‘’Nyahh-’’, Virgil’s voice wheezed, ‘’ah- stop!’’

He was gasping for more air, more breath and more voice to defy the man that rigorously drove his dick into him over and over again with a pace as unfazed by the world as exhaustive to Virgil.  
How did that man have to much energy?

The punk squirmed further but the merciless actions of one-sided love were pushed upon and into the other.  
Roman kept muttering sweet sweet phrases that could not be meant for him as he moved in and out of the other. Purring and slurring syllables rang in his ears with their personal echo of horror.  
Once more, the royal thought better of it and simply put his hands around Virgil in order to suffocate him with his wanton in another unwanted hug while the prisoner cried out at the confusion pleasure.  
  
His mind was distorted by the bipolar responses of body and mind. He felt split, not just impaled by the fat cock that seemed too eager to break him.  
He was not just hurting, he was also in crisis over whether he truly did ask for this, whether he did attract and provoke this encounter in a mind-washed fashion.  
  
With Roman’s hand at the execution of tasks, he did not doubt these things could have taken place, especially without his knowledge. Had he not always been the easiest to deceive with his overly trusting nature?  
Now that he had learned from his mistakes, it was the most delightful to know that life just cornered him to use his own blind spots against him in another unnerving lesson of his own, painful mistakes.  
  
As always, the results would be internalised and never forgotten.  
Not by his body, not by his soul nor by his ghost at all.  
  
Roman gently started setting a new pace. His legs shifted under Virgil once more and he felt an uncomfortable, strange pull in his lower parts.  
Was he pulling out? Was it over?

’’My dear love, try to understand what I am doing’’, Roman cooed gently as he pulled his Annabelle into another soft hug and brushed over his back with a nauseating calm in his fingertips.  
Why was not all of Roman evil? Why was it so hard to hate the fact that he tied him up and hit him just to abuse and use his body!?  
  
Virgil coughed as he found himself in the novel sensation of a room. A room to speak, a space to spit his venom and spill his hatred for the situation he wanted to despise with more than just his mind but also his whole being. His muscles, his bones, his blood and spite should be in harmony of his defiance. They should be his union of revolution.  
  
‘’You are being absurdly filled with pride of raping a half-starved guy while spurting some nonsense on love and whatnot’’, he spat back.  
  
He could not have been more mistaken but frankly, what else did he have to lose? At the very least, he had bought time with his well-being and sold himself for the means of being an absolute nuisance to Roman’s physical and psychological condition.  
But quite honestly, Roman was mentally fucked dead already with all that insanity. He knew better than to think that the other was less playing than falling for the whimsy of his own creativity and offensive ideas.  
The twisted mind of a royal might have been the only tripping stone to land him in the muddy morals of his outside vision whenever he tried to judge his own behaviour with the weighted scales of injustice he mistook for unmistakable truth.  
  
Instead of getting mad as Virgil might have not just feared but somewhat wished for in his defiant desperation, Roman instead pushed the other enough to have him tip over helplessly and simply crash into his muscular build.  
Fucking asshole. Attractive and hot but absolutely and wholly an asshole with the worst of minds, the presumably innocent mask before a vindictive nature.  
  
A hand caught itself in Virgil’s neck and brushed over his hair that nearly reached down to his bony shoulders. It looked like an out-of-place mullet.  
‘’My love, oh no. I am not doing any such thing’’.

He felt something move within him and tears started building up in his eyes despite his expectation of having run out of these merciful drops.  
The sensation within him dove back in and the filthy shame of dick settled deeply into him again as Roman sat up and started dragging his mouth over his face in strikingly slow pace.  
  
It reminded him of naked snails that left trails of where they had been with their unwanted nudity and filling slime that never seemed to run out. No matter how dry and cruel the territory around them was.  
  
‘’I, my dear princess’’, he started, his lips ghosting over his temples before he kissed these tearful, reddish eyes. Virgil looked nearly feverish with how puffed up and stained his cheeks have been left by now.  
’’I am merely freeing the love of my life from the terrible grips of the resistance. The hateful terrorists that want you dead, that used and mistreated you with illusions and promises.’’

Virgil shuddered.

No, no.. This was not true, that could not have been true! Logan had taken him in no matter how filthy and disgusting he was. No matter how many people had been on Virgil before, no matter what body form he resided in by now, Logan had never judged or deceived him. He had encouraged and empowered his attempts at loving himself and he had fought for him.  
They had.. they had been a family and Logan had brought them together and protected them, even risked his life for them so many times before!!  
  
They .. They had this all planned out, he and Logan. They had known that they could end up caught and they did and Virgil had promised to go with them and infiltrate the castle while Logan would save the memory of the building and try to place weakening attacks accordingly.  
  
He would never hurt him! Virgil had suggested this idea, not Logan! He had not been manipulated!  
  
‘’I am freeing you from how mean these people have been and once I have broken what they have broken in you, I will heal you, I will make you get better and have you recover from their torture.’’  
  
Roman gently kissed his ear as if to seal the message and block it from coming out again. It was trapped inside his mind, the warmth and wetness of Roman’s terrible lies and twisting deceptions.  
  
It was all just a lie!  
  
Virgil shook his head and gasped again as the royal merely moved into him and massages his thumb imprints into these small hips.  
He was so small for a woman and he truly believed he was a man just because of these maniacs, these barbaric savages that had taken his love away.  
  
‘’You have always been mine and you will always continue to be, Annabelle’’, Roman summarised softly as he gently started guiding Virgil’s hips up and down, forcing his stretching and bruising member into him and out of him just to teasingly bury himself in the helpless victim again.  
Poor deceived little wife.  
  
‘’I will save you, my love. I have always been a knight in shining amour for the matters of love and the means of your dignity.’’  
  
Virgil squirmed at the suddenly much more forceful intrusion and he felt the tears rolling from his eyes again. Heavy like rocks and liquid like the blood he was shedding from his wounds.  
  
Has it all been just a lie?  
  
Has body was glowing in a mix of pink and black as Roman continued to use him in his own lovely illusion of making love to his dearest beloved instead of forcing his genitals up his anus when he fought and cried against him and had to be restricted just so he would not slam anything into Roman's face again with the burning spite of protecting his pride and defying the other in his cause.  
  
Roman slammed back into him and the punk cried out in pain once more while the royal echoed with the lustful sound of his dripping moans.  
He felt his hips being guided up and down like the puppet he was to the other. The friction forced his mouth open into the position of letting out more and more desperate sounds.  
  
If he did not know better, he would account these moans and groans of pain for muffled screams of help.  
Roman took it as first step to their union.  
His eyes were glowing with enthusiasm and it felt as if the man was swelling up inside of him with pride. Virgil gasped out once more, his breathing more like a coughing when he was further strained into a straddling position and forced up and down Roman’s curved cock.  
  
The thick meat stick was still busy stretching him out and Roman kept squeezing his hips. His eager eyes ate up the sight before him and took in every twitch of Virgil’s muscle.  
For sure, Roman categorised the trembles and flinches as some sort of change towards his own direction. As if Virgil’s pain made him warm up to the relationship the royal was so convinced to have with the resisting male.  
  
The second-in-command was more than convinced that Roman was not in any way ever crossed with his fate. Not even once, not even when he used to be some toy of Annabelle. But especially not as Virgil, part of resistance and left hand to the group that had it on them to overthrow the very royal who was fucking him into his ass right at this moment.  
  
‘’Ana’’, Roman purred. His voice seemed thin and short all of a sudden. It was needy, nearly whiny in nature and it waved like a flag in the wind.  
The prisoner shivered at the sound but bit his lip in order to not make any more sounds at all. He swallowed them up and took the little break of Roman slowing down to silence his own moans.  
No way he would feed into Roman’s fantasy of him enjoying this whole thing. No matter how his treacherous body reacted to it.  
  
The prince stopped again and carefully bit into the side of Virgil’s neck once more, making the other cry out once more.  
The movement had stopped but he felt the other sucking the life out of him and possibly, even blood.  
His lids were heavy and fluttered shut again as his bruised lips were freed from his clenched teeth and parted from their bloody union and let out more shameful sounds.  
  
‘’Stop’’, he begged once more but shut himself once more as Roman let go off him just to sink his teeth into his flesh again and this time, even breaking skin enough to draw blood.  
Virgil felt the burning on his skin, in his body, and the greedy sucking continued and pulled the energy out of his skin, feasted on him and his fearful taste.  
  
Roman retorted to slap Virgil’s butt and the other gasped out once more, writhing in pain as the other nudged his penis further into him.  
He let go off his neck for another moment and let out a sound that felt like drool dripping onto Virgil’s skin.  
The punk shivered once more, his lines pulsating in green as the colour intensified.  
  
‘’Ride me’’, the Prince hissed and Virgil felt his body flinch in reply. His hips pressed into Roman’s grip and the royal huffed before another smack landed on Virgil’s bruised skin.  
‘’I told you to ride me’’, he growled again and now used both hands to tear at Virgil’s butt cheeks as the other did not comply immediately.  
The impatient man ate into Virgil’s skin again and his hands pushed his ass up and off his dick just to pull him down again into the hurtful sensation.  
  
Virgil’s butt was teared into different directions while his body was forced into moving along to Roman’s whims once more and for some reason, the fear within him seemed to drive his motions into the shape of the tyrant’s wishes.  
His hips shook as he rose them just to lower them onto Roman’s eager cock once more. The curved sword of pleasure was digging into him again and slowly drag against his insides and brushed the skin that squeezed around him in all the tightness Virgil’s unwilling hole provided.  
  
Then sensation within him was loaded with more and more friction. Virgil was sure it would be over soon.  
Roman seemed thick and swollen enough and his selfish impatience was Virgil’s imagined silver lining to have the other just spill his high over him and be done with it. He wanted to be done with it already, he just could not take it anymore.  
  
Roman groaned and growled.  
At least he finally let go off the other’s throat in favour of cheering him into moving further with more slaps landing on his deeply pink cheeks.  
‘’More’’, he ordered again.  
His voice was so much deeper and less affectionate than before. Possibly, Virgil’s last request was pushing him into showing another side of him.  
  
The punk took more hits. His breathing hitched more and more with every time Roman’s encouraging hands hit his skin and beat more speed into the top’s shaky up-and-down movements.  
All his mind was saying were phrases of ugly vengeance.  
He did not know how or when but he would get back at the prince and he would destroy him for putting all this filth on his body and taint his body in blood and bruises with his slimy touches and the bitter grips on him.  
  
Forever seemed to pass before Roman started squirming and his hands were back on Virgil’s hips again in order to suddenly jerk his grip upwards and pull him off his cock entirely just to slam him back around his horny stick with his meaty cave of lust that Roman enjoyed to play in so much.  
  
He shoved himself deeply into the other and let out a dragged out, guttural sounds that mde the air around them vibrate.  
Virgil remained still and tried to catch his own breath.  
His body was so warm and sweaty and all of him seemed to glow like blaze was inside of him, burning him out slowly and painfully with the most snail-like gradual process he has ever witnessed.  
Heat was curling up within him, nestled deeply inside of his anus and emitting the heat needed to keep his blazes going. That is, if the intruding liquid in him was not the blaze itself.  
  
Roman lifted him off his dick and let him simply remain there instead of guiding him into his disgusting arms.  
  
The prisoner, void of energy and any physical control over his body, felt his dizzy spells take over and push him down the high horse of the royal throne.  
He was sent down the stairs and rolled over one edge after another as the hard ground dug into his skin and left the start of bruising marks on him.  
  
A trail of white and red was left behind as he curled up in the harmful stinging that was shaking his body.  
His lines were merely glowing anymore, black illuminating his body weakly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is holding on ! Maybe..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM 
> 
> tw: regular shit as always; remus, "little master" if that triggers you c:
> 
> enjoy my bs!

Maybe he would die now. His magic was still within him but it was weak and his whole body was just entirely wrecked. It was not just the starvation or the drugs that were still blurring his vision. It was not just the bruises and the tied away hands that were torn at the skin from all the movement and especially the sudden jerks and blows to his body when he literally plumped down the set of stairs with the dizziness of a feverish death-patient.  
It almost felt as if he had fallen for the mere sake of his own clumsiness.

Well, who knew.  
Weird things happened these days and he truly did not know what was and was not anymore and he felt as if his own sense of identity was already sliding through his fingers in a slow tease, letting him feel it touch him but still escape from him desperate grabby hands.

His chest was still heaving in anguish.  
The throbbing bruises seemed to light up shortly with glows, then disappeared just to appear once more. It was intense and sudden, unpredictable.  
The only constant was the pain that came with it and the certain return of the drumming heat that retreated and arrived like the tides. The rhythm teased him with the illusion of knowledge, we a weakness to be found and exploited but at the end there was nothing for him to hold onto but his own shackles.

The captivated man coughed up his misery and squeezed the last bitter tears out of his eyes ass all sorts of liquids escaped his body and tainted the magical line system of his skin with the humiliation of drool and disgust in and out of him, running in circles and never letting him escape as he was in the cage of his own mistakes.

His heart was still strumming his veins like an old set of chords and the tone was off, it was twisted and broken and it sounded like a violation of rights and arts.  
It was too alienated from any original sounds it used to make when well-maintained.

The fragile form of his body was contracted like a balloon that immediately lost all of his air at once and pulled back into its original form.  
There he was, curled up like a fetus, in his original position, in his own good body. Just filthy and horrible in another way he had not expected to ever be ever since he was reborn to his own wishes, with his own destiny and name instead of driven by the whimsical needs and likes of people in his surroundings.  
Apparently, the lines on his body were not just his magic, if they have ever been an indicator for that at all, but they seemed to show his strings much more. His strings? Well, the strings a mighty puppeteer has attached to him to keep his action in check and tie him down if need be.  
Not his own need or want, of course. Never would this even count as worthy of any consideration or attention wasted on something so trivial as a puppet’s feelings and dreams.

Once again, life has played him, has failed him and he was falling into the abyss he had danced. It was his own fault he had kept his eyes closed in order to blind himself from the betrayal that was happening in his own life, the betrayal that was attached to his limbs and organs.

The outside sounds seems far away and he was unaware of the steps echoing through the room once more, the steps of stairs being touched for brief moment with the movement of heavy meaning touching them for mere seconds before continuing their fateful journey with the weight of a death sentence on them.  
When the royal stopped before the quivering and shivering form of true misery and poverty, he drank in the sweet portray of submission and suffering and knelt down with euphoria rushing through his veins and fueling his hot blood.  
His breath danced from his nostrils over Virgil’s skin and crept right down his face.  
Sweet sweet Annabelle seemed to change, seemed to slowly move and twitch with the realisation of her own metamorphosis as her body was rattled with the sudden change of going back to her true intent and meaning in life.

Serving him.  
Being there for him and satisfying his very needs even before he knew about him.  
Being available for his body. For his hot rage and his even hotter lust, to relish in the cold of his ignorance and the slow burn of his contempt whenever she questioned their love with these spiteful tears he despised on her cheeks on ate with the gluttony of his heart to ever experience true emotions on his own.

To ever find authenticity and vulnerability instead of the pitiful loneliness of fear and abandonment that he usually knew of himself and of others whenever his rule was in effect.

Roman was a pit. It was deep but shallowly covered and it ran into the shame of darkness. It was muddy and wet and unclean, there were worms and decay, it smelled horrible but it was all underneath the royal garments, the cheap perfume made of sweat and pain of the working class, of the citizens and loyal servants he had collectively enslaved.  
His throne was mounted on top of the hole, barely covering the whole circumference.  
If you looked closely, you could see the little dirty spots that were on his clothing, the precise peeks would be straightforward enough to catch glimpses of the depth underneath the throne, they would smell the death on his hands and see the killer in his eyes and the rage on his dagger, hear the impatience and pressure that made his words so heavy and final compared to the lighthearted suggestions of a caring friend.

He stepped closer to the writhing form of shame at his feet and he was just about to dip his toes against the nearly lifeless body but something stopped him.  
Virgil was moving.  
The shivering man was a puddle of tears and despair but his shackles came off, the ropes loosening around his wrists and freeing him.

When the prisoner looked up, he realised it was not Roman.  
No.  
No, not at all.  
The prince was frozen before him and he felt the ghastly touch of familiar nonchalance playing over his fingers, gently brushing up to his bruised wrists and caressing the scarlet marks that tainted his abused hands.

‘’Virgil, say, why do you not let me touch you like that?’’, a voice asked, it seemed to float between him and Roman and it was maneuvering through the air like a well-directed weapon by a trained soldier and true beast.  
The royal seemed to stare right through him as he witnessed not just Virgil slowly sitting up in a nearly blinded confusion but also a manifest of shadows piling up, forming in the violet shines of Virgil’s body lines. The glimmer had just returned but it seemed warm, it seemed strong and upright in his own body.

The punk spit his disgust onto Roman’s feet and let the shadows crawl over his body, descending onto his shoulders and dressing him in his own magic.  
The black curled around his skin, curtains and darkness protecting and healing his shame, nearly reversing it as he carefully leaned against the figure of grim fog behind his back and sighed out.

Roman was frozen in time, gripped by his own disbelief and the dumbstruck expression of slightly parted lips and helplessness relieved the ire that usually tightened the features on his face like a leather gear strapped over his terribly hypocritical visage.

‘’It is because I do not fucking like being touched by strangers, or being fucked by anyone or damn right cheating at my partner’’, he hissed. His voice seemed smoked and burned, like grilled cheese and hoarse like a raw wound.

‘’Aw Virgil, you are so so monogamous, so loyal’’, the voice caressed with his slightly scratchy tone to it. It was laying itself around Roman’s throat and seemed to return the favour of choking - if it was still not executed in reality, it was yet to come back at the prince.  
‘’And, you. Roman. My dearest brother. You must have missed me - like you missed my heart when you fucking stabbed me - HA!!’’

Remus’s voice distorted into a maniacal, uncontrollable fit of laughing, the sound squeaking and scratching at the others’ ear drums with the violence of nails running over a chalkboard with a force or a stuck set of hinges that screamed in pain with every movement that was forced upon them.

‘’Aw, I have missed you for so’’, he cooed softly as he stepped through Virgil who was left coughing in anger at the playful companion of his. The more he said, the more his voice seemed to turn into the highest volume of crazy when he reached the end of his sentence, his words slamming themselves into his brother’s face as he screamed them out in an angry hurl.  
‘’so.. fucKing long, my brother. I missed how you let me bleed out while you cried like a fucking bitch and whimpered about how you wanted to be prince but did not have the fucking balls to do it because you are a fucking cowARd!!’’

Roman backed away slowly as the ghost was seeming to gain his full manifestation. Its? Was it Remus still or was it a ghost after all?  
He did not know but he did not care. This was a nightmare coming true.

Remus stopped next to Virgil, then squatted down to look at the other.

‘’Virgil, how are you holding up?’’, he asked, his scratchy voice slowly fading into a softer version of himself as he gently brushed through his hair and looked over his body.  
‘’So my brother’s small dick can’t be that hurtful, right?’’

On that, for some strange twist of all the reasons, Virgil scoffed with an offended yet amused expression. His nose seemed to tug down for a moment and his eyebrows feel deep into a narrow scowl as he returned the glance into Remus’ glowing green eyes.  
He was almost smiling when the other touched him but a universal law of Virgilness directed that he could only move his face in negative emotions and mostly use his mouth for foul sarcasm when his energy was that low.

‘’Had worse. He is a real softie’’, Virgil commented off-handedly without too much care.  
Remus might have well ask about how he likes his breakfast egg in the morning or whether he ever took a shit in front of someone else.

The Duke carefully patted his head again for good measure before he clapped his hands.  
A servant quickly arrived at the scene and Remus ordered the person to get water and a clean set of clothing and then retreat the guards and soldiers.

If Virgil was ready to summon him, then this was due to the magic ban being broken. And that meant the funny plan the group and Virgil had worked out and the others were probably infiltrating the castle right now.  
So, if he ordered the guards and whole army to stand back and go off-duty, then there would be less annoying bloodshed and he would also get to spend more time with his brother!  
Lovely!

The ghost carefully circled his brother, his usual smirk right under his curly mustache. The facial hair just seemed as extra as the rest of him. Even his ghost appearance was extra.  
He had died before going to sleep, his brother having left a gaping wide hole in his chest that had, indeed, misses his heart yet still reached through his ribs and lungs enough to bring him the slow painful death that empowered him to be his current self.  
Despite the fact that his own magical abilities worked to a certain extend, he had never even considered the idea of covering up his wound or wipe away the blood that seemed to be ever-wet on his chest. Neither has he ever bothered to maybe just stop pretending to be a hot-ass bikini model for extremely luxurious goods.

Now he was there, his magical powers allowing him to create things out of thin air and he used it to create his hammer, big and heavy in black and green.  
It was incredible how the Remus pulled off a top, akin to a bra but somewhat longer, that was decorated with green and silver-ish roses on the top of where the cups should be. Below this part, there was lace dressing the man and exposing just enough of his skin to seem teasing.  
His lower parts were tightly packed in the thin fabric of delicate panties that seemed way too cut short and were easily bulging due to the Duke’s size.  
Garters were travelling down his thighs.

If Virgil did not know better, he would expect Remus to pull out a whip but instead, there was a a big hammer on his hands, handle big and steady as he dragged it from one hand into his other as well, his fingers wrapping around it with ease.  
But this seemed to be just the way the other royal was. He was the most eccentric yet good-hearted crazy-head he has ever met and it was endearing, in an odd way.

For now, he was just comforted by the fact that Remus would easily separate him from Roman. With this, the two were free.  
Virgil was free to leave, to be. Remus, on the other hand, was more than liberated in his own rage that he would execute against his brother in an attempts to bring the true balance of nature and order back into place and make up for how much and what exactly Roman has messed up in the first place.

Siblings were so forgiving. Especially the bigger ones. Just sacrificing themselves and not even retreating when death comes hauling them out of their physical vessels because they are just too good for all this selfish shit of simply leaving into the fucking afterlife like some normal, boring person.  
But Remus was not boring, nor was he normal.

The elder brother lifted the hammer and stopped before his brother.

‘’Long time no see’’, he purred out as Roman simply fell onto his knees before him, folding into a mere fracture of what he used to make up in size and even breadth.  
The mere appearance of the other was enough to make him drop to the ground and start his desperate whimpers.  
He cried and wailed for forgiveness and rambled on about excuses and sadness and just how much he had missed his dear dear Remus.

Fucking actors, huh?  
But the thing was that Remus had grown up with Roman and he knew much better than to rely on the other and the face that seemed to twist up in pains and regrets of past events and the worst mistakes in his life.

The elder sibling saw the smile in his face, smelled the mischief in his actions and felt the treacherous heart beat in the riot of true betrayal.

His brother could be so pretty if he ever used his precious face and nice nice outside tan to charm more than his own pleasure and his pathetically dumb dick.

‘’You were mean to me’’, he concluded and pushed Roman away with his knee as the other tried to wipe his crocodile tears on the thin fabric of his black tights that were less suggestive than they should have been, considering that they were rather see-through.  
‘’You were mean to poor Virgil over there even though the little guy has never even met you before and you just jumped into his ass without invitation or my blessing. How dare you be so disrespectful of my little master.’’

‘’I am not your fucking master, you trash rat’’, a hoarse voice commented from behind but Remus paid no more but a mental smirk of dismissiveness to the little play between them.  
He loved the sarcasm and the obvious little lies between them.

Virgil did not spare Remus with another of his snarled comment. Instead, he let himself be served by the trembling hands of a servant and he was informed that the army was set to retreat but infiltration had started.  
Oh dear hell, finally.

Remus dignified the whole interaction with a little smile on his face.  
They understood. They knew he was back in here and he would not leave and he would not let Roman get back into the reign of terror.  
It was over.

‘’Virgil!’’, a voice sounded.

The usually calm voice pitched in at a higher volume than expected and it left the dehydrated mess of a second in command flinch at the intrusion but he quickly settled back and blinked at the owner of the voice with his glossy, spaced out sun eyes.  
The nigh outside was still consuming all light around. Yet, every little stream of light stood out against the raging power of blackness and it defied the sensation in power and a sense of justice.

Virgil took some of his water and curled up as he felt the sensation of something running within him like a stream of defrosted glacier water that was running down the mountains.  
The ice cold sensation was hurting within him. It was pooling and stretching him but it also purified and re-vitalised his body.  
He still wanted to puke out his guts but that was it.

As the liquid slowly refilled his juices and strengthened his body. His energy was slowly restocked and he nodded at the water.  
Clothing..Clothing too.. And Logan was there..

Well, yes, the voice was Logan. He was very much Logan.  
It was his partner and leader and he was here for him and now all would get better, all would be over.  
He felt his body slowly sag down, dipping into the softness that was his beloved leader when he finally arrived at him.  
The noise of Remus and Roman having a little confrontation could still be heard. He could not nod at this anymore but he felt the only touch on him that he ever wanted to feel. There was the warmth of Logan’s arms around him, carefully holding him close and crying onto him.

His eye lids were shuddering. Whether it was in delight or disgust? - he did not quite know so far but his mind was too tired to comprehend any more but the tears falling and the warmth finally settling in him again as it was welcomed by his skin and slowly absorbed until it arrived within him.  
Logan was ...like a sun. And his hugs were a whole bed that rocked him into the safety of a deep and awaiting unconsciousness.  
His body was still glowing in the usual purple to signify a regular state of being.

The more he fought, the more he dipped into grey-ish shades of his little light. He curled up and rested, his body finally having eaten up all the adrenaline to let him rest.  
When his system shut down, the rest of the group joined but this was just the edge of his blackened perceptions when he finally faded into his own little nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did it! You almost made it to the horrible ending I finally got around to editing! *yay* Have a great day!
> 
> If you feel like annoying me: my tumblr/kofi handle is the same as here c; drop into the comments and leave kudos if you wanna! Go wild, be gay and shit! imma go fucking write more angst ;)
> 
> Love ya guys (and please stay safe and don't ever meet a Roman like this)


	6. A kingdom of Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time.. there was a vibecheck..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: it is a bad ending, I mean.. what do you expect. Also, consider every trigger warning I gave - especially the archive warnings because you HAVE BEEN warned
> 
> Have some angsty, horrible ending in these trying times! I will make sure to update some nice fluff the next days - maybe a Roman thing to make up for all this shit, lol. ♥ Enjoy reading!
> 
> (Fun fact: I wrote this in a comforting font for my own sake pfft)

The room was filled with bantering, if not rather quiet.  
Remy and Emile were holding hands, curiously eyeing the happenings before them as Patty carefully brushed over tainted skin and faint lines of violet glows that sprung from Virgil’s body.  
She let her eyes slip shut and gradually felt the warmth ooze into her hands as she traced her touch over the seemingly lifeless body that was her sibling’s beloved partner and her own best friend.  
  
It had been more than a day ever since Virgil had passed out and while Logan had worked enough magic with Patty and their biology skills, the abused body was laying still and seemed unmoved after all. Nothing good nor bad could really stir from him.  
  
For the time being, Remus had been literally chained to Virgil.  
When awake, he was able to give Remus freedom. However, being a ghost, he was invisible to others and rather powerless without more than enough will to move some objects and maybe annoy people a little. But with Virgil’s power connecting to him, he was able to be more than a ghost yet still less alive and enabled as a living being in the world of life and breath.  
So, for now, he was holding onto the little life and light that was still burning in his master.  
It was not just that he was literally bound to him and that all his steps depended on his survival and his whims.  
  
Remus liked the snarky man and enjoyed messing with him and getting real shit back without malice because one of them had hard feelings and at least they had stayed honest at all times unlike Roman. But Roman was a whole different story and he knew that.  
  
Probably, without even knowing him, the others knew as well.  
That much just was obvious.  
  
Patty was moving her healing glow over Virgil again. Every so often, she would come in and check up on him, try to heal his wounds and energise him by exchanging power with him but it seemed to be to no avail.  
Logan would always try to induce some things into his beloved.  
  
Ever since Roman had been defeated and thrown into jail (that bastard had the timing to just not get the swing in time before Virgil fainted so Remus has basically disappeared into another dimension of physical visibility to the others right when he had been ready to strike the other with his hammer), the group had moved into the castle and they had taken on the rule for the moment.  
  
The royal couple still seemed to be lost despite all guards having been sent out to find them or any clue that could lead up to them and just reach the King and Queen.  
According to law, they were in legitimate line of ruling but Roman had taken over in their absence and nobody really had had the power to deny his deeds and wished. Especially not after he had murdered his own brother in apparently cold rage.  
  
Nobody would ever turn against a royal. The commoners knew better than to do so and the servants had suffered enough punishment to very much not start a riot no matter their dissatisfaction.  
And on top of that, everyone knew someone who or did personally know at least one case of royals going insane and you did not want to get on their bad side. You wanted to wait and sit still until you could flee or take them down in a moment of weakness.  
  
  
And that is what they had all been doing.  
  
Waiting.  
  
Just waiting and nothing more.  
  
And when their moment has come, they had not dared to seize it but instead stayed loyal to the first best person to fit a crown and throne.  
And really, you could say that one size fit them all.  
  
But back at the issue, even with yet another set of healing, Virgil remained still and would not budge even a single bit.  
  
The others could not see him but Remus did see them after all.  
He saw them come to Virgil during days and nights. Talking to him, stroking his face. Healing him, reporting things and just begging him to wake up or get better - just please get well.  
It was annoying and disgusting to see. It gave him a heat that was not anger and it was not lust either. It was a heat he wanted to push off and have it go away after all because it made something rise in him that he had never felt before, something he would never really care for.  
  
Patty stayed composed mostly but she seemed supported and close to tearing up a lot.  
But Logan?  
Logan was about the worst.  
  
The leader of the group seemed stoic but their face had grown from apprehensive to distraught at nearly all times and there was a certain piece missing in this usual appearance. They did not just look out of place, but looked like they had rushed into everything and was neither prepared nor calm enough to even take another breath without a break.  
  
They would spend whole nights with Virgil, sleepless or passed out from exhaustion.  
They would cry and talk and try to find things to heal him. They would study and sometimes just be quiet and whisper how much they loved and missed him and that they regretted their deed and what they had decided together.  
  
Remus was not sure what exactly they had meant but he would guess it was either about taking Virgil into the group and taking it so far to get not just a lot of people murdered on the way but also get him hurt. So hurt, he may not even survive, he may not wake up and be able to live life more than just waste his breath as he drifted further away from his friends and closer into Remus’ realm.  
  
Virgil would always dance between the life and death, the living and the dead creatures. He would probably never stop crossing lines and doing his graceful steps on them - each measured and perfectly coordinated to play with the balance but never quite tilt it - or his feral sprints. Sometimes, you just had to fuck over boundaries.  
But if he did not wake up soon, this might be a thing he would have to try doing from the side of the deceased and Remus was not sure whether it worked that way.  
  
He was actually pretty sure that it was not.  
  
Logan had said something about Virgil’s chances sinking with every moment longer it took him longer to get his usual life together and just be and live and enjoy himself.  
  
Remus surely was not always around and he was not in the position to communicate with anyone other than people with Virgil’s magical ability but he knew that this was bad .. Not that he could tell them. He had no idea how to get this moving, how to make a change without being really able to influence the world with Virgil lacking the ability to enforce their connection and allow Remus to have an effect.  
  
Patty gave Logan another of these helpless looks.  
She was usually so full of enthusiasm and energy.  
Remus had been surprised at so much positive energy floating around one person’s moods so much that she would just counter all the bad and misery with little quirks and jokes. She was always there for others and constantly looked out for them, even wiping another’s cheek when her own eyes were drowning in the hot saltiness of her own frustration.  
  
The leader shook their head and stormed out of the room.  
It was a common occurrence but it never ceased to make Patty tear up in guilt and have Remy suck in a breath.  
Whether he wanted to protest or not, he kept quiet and he would just keep it to Emile and Patty with clenched teeth and helplessly angry hands.  
  
The others left right after. It was slow and sad. Their movements mimicking the march of a grieving bunch that attended the funeral of a beloved one who was too far gone to ridicule the fashion crimes of people walking around in so much black without irony in it.  
Virgil would certainly complain about that.  
Heck, he would too! All-black was so tasteless if not in well put-together variations of some sort of clue.  
  
Once the room was empty, the silence among the little riot seemed to fade into a more intense elation rather than a funeral mood.  
Remus sat down, letting his ghost butt rest on the bed as he fell through Virgil.  
He could not even touch him in this state, not really. He had tried before and now there was just nothing and he felt so odd and weird about this. Usually, he would always be able to touch Virgil even when the other restricted his powers to not let Remus touch others.  
  
Despite having been a ghost when they had met for the first time, the Duke had always had the power to create things like he had been before.  
With Virgil, he had been connected to the present so he would be able to just dip in and let his creativity be shared with the world and let the planet tremble from his actions.  
  
The ghost glanced over the unmoving body.  
It was still quite the sight to have Virgil there with closed eyes. Even asleep he had always seemed to struggle in fights, ready to claw your throat out if you dared closing in too much. And this was coming from Remus, a ghost who could and would and actually did try these thing, so he absolutely knew what he was talking about.  
It felt so wrong, it felt as if all deities, people could and would believe in or ever did and will come up with for worshiping purposes, just pissed all over the world and broke the contract of keeping order in the universe.  
  
Everything was broken and chaotic but the world outside was so normal, so threateningly normal. It was basically an insult to see everything go on, the tides still work, the winds blowing and the earth trembling as the temperatures fell further and the trees turned red and purple and silver as winter approached.  
Yes! Even the stupid seasons were still in order and came according to their turn and took over their duties of fulfilling their jobs and changing the worlds in the regular rhythm of their five seasons.  
  
It was wrong.  
It was not fair!  
No order and law should be in place with Virgil falling and suffering while the liquid rain solidified enough to make little flakes of silver travel down the way and land on the floor to decorate the world in the pale silverish glimmer of cold.  
No order should be in the world when Virgil was not fighting anymore but also still struggling as he seemed peaceful on the outside.  
  
Remus leaned over him.  
He knew he was being overly dramatic right now, thirsting after a touch just out of reach, a person he would never be able to warm and a closeness he would fly right through even if he actually was a materialised person.  
There was no reason, no logic or any way in which he could ever get a sweet taste of Logan’s place, he would never see Virgil’s cool eyes light up with joy and spark in mischief for him because he was just a noisy ghost who promised him to help bringing down the tyranny of his brother.  
Why, Virgil had asked but Remus would just shrug and always say that it was for fun.  
  
The ghost whisperer probably noticed the resemblance of their faces and bodies as soon as Roman had been in front of him and started being a terrible, delusional piece of shit.  
Roman’s mind, at some point, must have been put into a pot with stew and mixed through enough to just be all over the place and blended in with all the trash that was now his thoughts. Otherwise, there would just be no explanation for him to be such a twisted little malice.  
  
He reached out and let his fingers ghost over Virgil’s face.  
It was bullshit but he could imagine the warmth he was longing for just tickling his finger tips and teasing into his body with little tingles and soft sparkles that reminded him of fire magic and artistic light work.  
But he knew better, he knew so much better and the joyous smile that deceitfully stole itself onto his mouth just dropped as he realised how he had gotten too absorbed in the sonnet of false hope that were his thoughts. His fingers fell through the skin and he felt an odd, blocking sensation within him as his hand nearly disappeared in Virgil’s head.  
  
Usually, he did these things to mess around, to play a little with how much people would freak out about these things. After all, he could drive into someone’s body or charge at them without actually interacting with them on a physical level that could leave them to collisions.  
Remus was left wondering about how Virgil’s nose would scrunch up at his silly shenanigans while the younger one was panicking about trivial things such as whether this mushroom was poisoned. It was a common mushroom and he had left it without supervision for a second. When surrounded by friends!  
  
“You are dumb, Virgil. Very very silly.”  
  
The ghost smiled and looked over at the sleeping beauty before him, the dying undead who jumped off the tip of Death’s blade in fear just because dying seemed too stressful and implied a workload that made the man too anxious to function.  
It sounded ridiculous but really, Remus had seen Virgil merely making it because the idea of dying got him into the incredible survival mode of somehow getting out alive just because he could and had to and his fucking stubbornness was all that would get him through the night.  
  
Virgil truly was the epitome of a miracle if not the personification of spite.  
  
“You are even too stubborn to wake up, emo, are you not?”  
  
His lips twisted downwards and his eyes cast down to the slowly moving chest. The tiny heart in it was still trembling enough to shake the whole body it was inhabiting. This was just about how weak he was, even after Logan and the others made sure to use all the spells and magical knowledge they could muster up just to nourish the other.  
Over injections and similar methods, they have literally exhausted all the practices Remus has ever heard of and even freshly learned ones due to their odd yet somewhat effective ideas.  
He was sure cures for several ills have been found during these attempts. But none of those were the unfair damage that was taking down Virgil.  
  
  
Speaking of which, he seemed less bony but he was still too small and fragile for a person of his age. Which was .. basically an adult, in human years, was he not?  
  
The dead prince let his fingers retreat and he trailed them down to his chin, the perfectly sculptured downward hill simply reminding him of how strange the other was.  
He had all these thoughts and problems that Remus never had ever since he had been adopted by the royal family when they thought they could not have a legitimate heir to the throne.  
After all, he was just a fill in but then there was his half brother who was not a denied-then-accepted bastard excuse of a social reject.  
  
Remus sighed.  
Tears were marking his cheeks with blackish colour as he filled himself with the poisonous emotions of memories with Virgil by his side - or rather him by the side of Virgil in his annoying yet absolutely helpful glory of screaming ‘’juicy butthole’’ while taking down a particularly snarky enemy. The squashy sound that would come with it usually made him laugh in mania.  
  
The black dropped down and down from his cheeks, tainting his greenish appearance that represented the colour of his vibes.  
Coal-coloured rivers fled from his body and sank down like the foolish ash rain of his dying macabre jokes whenever he tried to just be extra enough for a little bit of attention.  
  
Virgil had not even been like this. Neither had the rest of his group after they had found out about him.  
  
“It’s not fair!”  
His words were choked down by his own sobs. The ghost who shimmered like transparent algae was trembling.  
Virgil was his only friend, the only reason he did have friends ever in his life. No people judging him to be a proper person and dressed well.  
  
Remus curled up and sighed as he rested next to Virgil, their faces nearly touching.  
The patient was facing the ceiling, hence not ‘looking’ back at him. It still felt so close, so intimate and Remus could hear his own existence tremble before the divination of actions and thoughts he was entitled to.  
Things even he should not be thinking or joking about.  
  
Remus felt himself being absorbed in the tears that pearled over his cheeks and stained the sheets under him. Precious black deepened the fabric beneath his body.  
The world around him seemed to blur away with the liquid veil that covered his sight and messed with his vision enough to make him doubt reality.  
It might very much be that he was losing his manifestation more and more at the moment and would fully glide through all matter if he did not focus on existing in the here and now. He wanted to stay in the living world with the others, he really did but he did not know how to fight the urge of throwing it all away.  
  
Seeing his little master like this just.. hurt.  
It hurt on a level different than being stabbed. When he focused on that pain, he could summon the memory and relive his own death again, feel the splitting of his flesh and the piercing sensation burst through his rib cage and destroy the integrity of his chest.  
It was another thing for him  
The pain was within him, deeply buried in his whole existence and it was weaved into every fiber of his being. The little net of his cells was glowing with pain and throbbing due to the unbelievable variable of him continuing to be when others may not.  
  
Remus curled into himself.  
‘’Emo’’, he sniffed softly as his insides seemed to stir.   
It hurt so much…  
  
He was but a ghost but he felt obliged to let go of all the things within him but he was no living being anymore yet he still denied death. He was forced into making it through, bearing all the pain he could not project onto something or someone.  
There was no escape, no coping. All his anguish was instilled in him.  
  
The ghost reached out for Virgil, his fingers curling around his chin again.  
‘’You tickle me’’, he mumbled.  
And he did. The punk did, his little master always did! And he was the only one.  
He tickled his insides and stirred up all the things he ignored with his silly comments and sexual innuendos he would bring up just to shut out all problems and issues in his head and instead get back on track with disgusting facts and various imaginations that nobody wanted to participate in.  
  
Royals were supposed to smile and drown in gluttony and sin.  
  
His grip slipped and his hand dropped from Virgil’s face to his unconscious chest.  
It was only moving with the regular breath in and out that came and went when the lungs decided to.  
But it was also very much moved by the sudden coughs that came from the small man’s chest.  
  
Remus jerked up into a sitting position, suddenly stricken by the power of a lightning bolt when he saw the chest contracting and the little body shaking under the warming blanket that was drawn over the little magical being.  
Was he dying? Was he coughing? Was that bad???  
He should get Logan, he should get Patty or someone, just someone but they could not see him so he would just have to make noise, big big bad noise so they would understand that something was happening and that the little guy needed a lot of help and maybe was choking.  
  
Shit, did he do that?  
  
“Of course people choke! Virgil is not dead, silly!”  
  
Remus pulled himself up and was more than ready to simply bodyslam himself into the next shelf and wreck total havoc within just a mere moment because if that was all it needed to get the attention to the little bean, then he would do that.  
Before he could, however, his eyes caught sight of the golden that had shimmered under Virgil’s eyelids for too long and finally went back to streaming into the world and brightening the day.  
  
His body quickly started feeling warm again, a flame raising in him and his ghost form quickly materialised enough to be visible to the whole of the living world.  
The Duke blinked and stared back as the snarling yet soft golden treasure wired into his soul and seemed to hug him without a single motion. His whole heart was wrapped up in the imaginary embrace of seeing the other move to retreat into his little ball of softness as he pulled the blankets around him with weak paws at the soft fabric around him.  
  
‘’Emo!! You are alive’’, he cheered loudly as he threw himself onto the other and gained a yelp in return as the other scrambled to stay on his butt and curled up against the wall as he tried to remain in his seated position.  
‘’You are alive! I thought you would join me in being a cute little ghost and stop looking so ridiculously dead under these funny sheets!! I mean- you kind of gave me vibes to wrap you up like a mummy and maybe suck your toes but I forgot I don’t really exist anymore, so-’’  
  
The master sighed and carefully pushed at the other’s chest with tired attempts at moving his arms fully in the first place.  
‘’The fuck’’, he whispered with a broken voice. His sentence was twisted like mosaic but just as beautiful yet nearly impossible to make out its origin.  
Good thing Remus was a master of the odd and quickly retreated to pet Virgil’s hair and gently soothe him.  
  
‘’Let me get Logan. You need to swallow some stuff to get your voice buttered up and I only have my cock to offer’’, he proposed eventually and carefully patted his head again before he swept out of the room and came back just a felt heartbeat later with Logan trailing right behind him, nearly running through Remus as the ghost quickly flew around to settle at the other side of the bed while Logan quickly rushed to where Remus had previously settled to stare the patient into life.  
  
‘’Nerd, your joyfriend needs some oiling so he can sing again when you make him happy’’, he commented with his voice scratching the chalkboard in excitement. Why did Remus have such a cranky voice? It was about as smooth as swallowing a shot of white vinegar.  
Virgil did not do much more but groan and stick his tongue out at Remus but when Logan sat down by his side, he sighed and simply let himself be immersed in the warmth of Logan and the strong hold of their arms that he could have only dreamed of in his last waking moments.  
  
Basically, he fell unconscious in Logan’s arms and woke up with the other being around again. Once again, his body was in the direct presence of Remus and Logan at the same time.  
Funny.  
The dizzy man carefully dipped his arms against the blanket and helplessly nudged the heavy cloth as he could not even move it enough to get it off. It was too heavy, too much.  
Why was he so weak… He had not felt that heavy before..  
  
‘’mm.. l-lo..’’, he mumbled softly before he started coughing just a bit again and Logan silenced him with a little smooch to his forehead.  
  
There were serenades of feelings under Logan’s tongue, sparks of compliments and praises to all powers they believed and did not believe to exists just to show the immense gratitude they felt for Virgil finally being awake and looking back up at them.  
They wanted to, they wanted to speak to him so bad, tell the truth of their feelings and unleash the beast of feelings they had for their right-hand man.  
  
It was no secret they were close, dating.  
Logan just felt they did not let their partner know enough about their mentality towards the other being not just alive but also willingly by their side when they were stoic and blunt more often than not.  
  
But the hopes and sparks vanished.  
With a door opened and icy air falling through them, the light and warmth was blown away and Logan realised that their love’s life had been long gone and all that had him seem alive was the magic of his existence transcending from here to .. to nowhere.  
Just barely out of reach.  
  
For once, being split was not so much fun. It was no fun at all and did not give him any kind of advantage or secret trick that would help them out.  
This had not been planned.  
  
Their attempts at giving Virgil a meaningful kiss to his forehead ended up being nothing but an idiot pursing their lips at the air while nearly pushing their head into the headboard with full force and enthusiasm.  
There was nothing but the essence of Virgil floating around them in icy spills running down their spines as if to mimic the soothing touch of their beloved that would travel down their back and pull them closer until they were so close, their hearts were excitedly jumping at one another and kissing through their chests connecting.  
  
The punk was there, in full glory, in all his body even with the clothes he would usually wear when together with the others.  
His patched up jacket with large stitches and messy patterns of plaid purple covering the basic, black jacket that was thin and worn out so much, it frequently displayed more and more spaces of fabric that rubbed away so much, it was see-through a lot. Hence the many many patches. There was more patch than jacket by now.  
  
Virgil felt the other fall through him and both pulled apart, shivering and crossing their arms over their chests in order to touch something that was more like them, more like the kind of being and the world they belonged to.  
  
The second in command looked back at them and blinked, his heart... empty. There was no feeling, no nothing. It was cold like his whole existence and it was merely wavering around in this world, unfinished and unprepared for life and death all-together.  
  
“What..”, Logan asked.  
Their words were light and intangible. The questions were far away from his intentions, the answers he could and should take and the huge abyss between these dimensions of warming dreams with heart and soul and the contrast of the harsh reality punching them all in their guts when they were already on the ground and wincing in obvious pain.  
  
A silence stretched between them. Long and thick like an empty road that painted the difference of the two worlds they were in.  
They were right before one another, they were so close yet so distant.  
  
Virgil was void of feelings of any physical body. Except for the discomfort and the icy feeling running through his insides like ice water running through him like the river of defrosted glacier water.  
All he felt was the mental pain of being wretched away from the one he loved when they were right in front of him.  
Logan before him, Remus basically next to him.  
  
“I think Virgil’s fate finally settled on a secure answer.”  
  
Well, that comment, as much as it seemed insensitive to others, was something Remus ripped from his throat as he tried to sound over the breaking and falling hopes he used to have in his own heart.  
He wanted to be happy Virgil was with him now, was close to him and in his world and realm but not once before in their time spent together had they encountered the issue of non-interaction with one another since Virgil had been in the perfect place to be with the living and dead all along.  
Now he was stuck, stuck here with him and whether he wanted to love it or not, he could not, would not. For all it had done to him was take his long-term beloved away from him and leave him without the support he had wished for in his whole life.  
  
Virgil shot the other a glance, helpless and lost. Short of breath as he was about to drown in the raging sea and never make it back up to live for another breath of sweet oxygen or a glance through the salty veil of the sea to the beauty around him and the assembled orchestra of water crashing and thunder flashing around him.  
  
“I ...I can still be with you”, he insisted and took a deep breath, “ I love you, Logan! We can stay together. I am still here - it must be my power!”  
  
Maybe he was high on being a damn ghost. Maybe he lost more than their weight of a physical vessel but also his fucking mind. All he knew was how his chest was unusually free - breath a matter of everyone but him.  
  
Logan was reaching out for him, love and welcomes on their lips -  
“I can be with you Logan!”, he sounded  
  
Virgil’s voice dissolved into the empty echo of nothing as finally, his self was soaked up and Logan’s unbelieving eyes stared into nothing but a bed. Empty with Virgil’s abandoned corpse in it.  
New tears were spilling as Remus witnessed the two lovers break down, fully torn apart by now.  
  
He could not make it work.  
None of them could, neither alone nor together.  
  
Virgil’s body was Logan’s shoulder to cry on as they mourned the loss of their datemate, their soulmate.  
  
Remus could hear heart-wretching cries from the two as he allowed himself to relish in the masochism of watching two people he adored fall and die and inevitably suffer because and in place of the other.  
He seated himself between them, seeing that they were, as always, so close and so divided.  
  
Roman really did rule a whole kingdom. And poisoned the foundation is was supposed to regrow on.  
  
Salty tears did not make an ingredient in the conditions of nurturing life - or allowing it in the first place.  
With Roman’s deeds and Virgil’s corpse, all hope of Logan taking over had been diminished.  
  
Sometimes, there was no good and bad. And where there was no good nor bad, there could be nothing but endings that fell into the category of neither.  
It was just a kingdom of misery that was life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (post-reading note: to make it clear: Virgil was born in a body assigned as female but met Dee who magically fixed that because Dee is magic. Roman is abolutely out of his mind and twisted in jealousy. After he had killed his half brother, his insanity dropped into destruction of all life. His dad was the king, his mother was a servant. When The Queen did not produce children herself, they settled on adopting Remus and declaring him a chosen child of royalty (he did have creative powers! He can create things, even as ghost) but then the King heard of Roman and acknowledged him as child.  
Remus IS older so he was the prince but Roman wanted to be more important, more than a bastard. He did not kill his parents but nobody can find them.  
Virgil is beyond living and the dead, as he always had been. He is in a special ever after because he doe not belong with ghosts like Remus. Him coughing was his last breath, basically. When he got up and Remus hugged him, it was Virgil slowly merging from the mortal world into the world of the dead so Remus saw him pass his realm for a bit.  
Virgil can still see Logan and Remus but they cant interact.)
> 
> I hope this clarifies everything in case anyone was confused because it can happen and that is okay. Hope you had fun, have some nice fluff after this, perhaps? ♥ I think I wrote nice, soft oneshots that might help (at least I hope so)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far. I hope you had fun reading this. Please consider commenting and leaving some kudos as they motivate my writing process and make me more confident about this.
> 
> Have a great day  
♥


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